


Alter Ego

by Akii



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anger, Angst, Dean Winchester/Female Sam Winchester, Dean in Denial, Denial, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Established Relationship, F/M, Female Sam Winchester, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Gender or Sex Swap, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Pre series, Pre-Stanford, Psychological Trauma, Romance, Sexual Tension, Sibling Love, Stanford Era, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 00:54:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 24,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2249835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akii/pseuds/Akii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Henry Winchester and Samantha Millie Winchester<br/>Sammy and Dee<br/>Sam-an-Dean<br/>Bitch/Jerk</p>
<p>Soul Mates</p>
<p>Two sides of the same coin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hair

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> I've been thinking for a few days about writing a fic with a female Sam. So this is an alternate universe where Dean doesn't get a little brother, but a little sister, and this changes a lot of things, except the fact that Sam and Dean remain the soul mates they were always meant to be.  
> Another major difference between this fiction and the original story is that teenage Dean doesn't look like the actors who portrayed him in SPN, but like Jensen Ackles when he was young. And in my mind, Sam looks like Sophie Turner.
> 
> I don't really know where I'm going now, so I'd really appreciate some feedback. Thanks!

The day when John cut Dean's hair was also the one when Sam called her father an asshole for the first time. She was twelve, and it wouldn't be the last.

Dean had beautiful hair. Long dirty blond bangs framing his androgynous face. Sam and him had pretty much the same haircut. Some kind of long half boyish half girlish bob, something that had been made in a gas station bathroom with kitchen scissors. But it suited him. It suited them.

Sammy had begun to grow a lot on her twelfth year, and Dean hadn't begun his growth spurt yet. They were like twins almost of the same height, and wearing the same clothes. Dean's clothes. Since Sam was a kid, she had always wore her brother's old clothes. Out of convenience. They didn't have the money to buy her new ones, plus it's easier to be seen as a boy when you live on the road. Things always happen to girls, you see that all the time on TV.

When she was little, Sam liked to pretend she and Dean were a prince and a princess in exile. She had always had that instinct: she didn't belong in this car, and neither did Dean. And to her, it was pretty obvious why, it was written in the way people looked at them. To be fair, they were both beautiful children, and when Dean reached teenage, he didn't turn into an awkward work in progress, no. He turned into what Sam considered to be an out of this world beauty. An elf. A faun. A living proof they were not destined to drift around the country and to sleep in shabby motel rooms.

People were looking at Dean wherever he went. Men and women. And even if she couldn't quite understand why, it seemed to infuriate her father. The more Dean grew, the more John told him to man up, the more he made him work out, to fill his slender arms with manly muscles. Dean was far from being weak though. When he hunted, he was swift, efficient, fearless and almost gracious. But it wasn't about him being a good hunter, it was about what John saw in people's eyes, that unbearable thing that Sammy couldn't decipher.

One day they had been driving for ten hours straight, John parked the car in front of an old roadhouse where he had decided they would spend the night. He came inside, ordered a beer and two lemonades, and Dean went straight to the pool tables while Sammy, exhausted by the road, collapsed on a worn out couch. She was so tired she didn't even see what happened. At some point she woke up, hearing her father scream at some guy, yelling at him " _You touch my boy again_!" and the guy said _"Didn't know he was yours, he's so pretty_ ". John then completely lost his mind and hit him with a whiskey bottle until there was blood everywhere and everybody was screaming. Sammy was stuck on her couch like an idiot, and Dean ran to her, grabbed her wrist and led her outside. She was crying and she didn't even know why. Dean was petting her hair, telling her everything was fine when John got out of the bar, with a bruised lip and a pissed off stare. He didn't say a word till they found another place to sleep in, and when they did, he asked Dean to follow him to his room, and then all what Sammy could hear were ruffled angry voices.

It was the next day that John dragged Dean to a barber shop so he could get his hair cut. " _Like a man_ ".

Dean smiled at Sam and before he could say anything, Sam rose from her chair and called her father an asshole.

He slapped her so hard she fell on the floor. She was almost out, but could still hear Dean protest and say " _why would you do that? She's just a kid!_ ". And John said Sammy had to learn some respect, that she was too old for acting like a spoiled brat. Sam remained on the cold tiles, watching John dragging Dean out and she promised herself that from this moment on, she would never cut her hair again.

So Dean would always have some strands to curl in his fingers around when he feels like it.

And he still does now Sam's auburn hair brushes her lower back. Sometimes she makes fun of him, telling him he has a hair fetish. Well maybe he does. He likes she still uses the same coconut shampoo after all this years. He likes kissing her temple and watch her undo her braid at night, freeing dozens of silky red curls that make such a beautiful contrast with the pale skin of her back.

When he came back from the barber, he had a short cut and his hair styled with stupid hair gel. It made him look like a douche. John said _"You finally look like a guy"._

That night, like every single night, Sammy waited for her father to sleep to discretely slip into her brother's bed. She kissed him on the cheek and told him

_"You're not too sad Dee?"_

Dean laughed and thanked God internally for Sammy's innocence.

_"No Sammy-baby I'm not. I'm fine."_

Sam then hugged him and nestled her head against her brother's chest.

She had always needed his heartbeat to sleep.


	2. Playing Pretend

Dean has always loved Sammy's hugs. Since they were both little. John wasn't exactly the cuddling type.

They were surrounded by manly men who showed their affection by patting each other on the back, well patting, almost hitting, and sometimes, when someone died or was amputated or something, they did strange stiff hugs. When you were a kid, they patted the top of your head and that was it.

Sammy's hugs were different. Well she was a girl, so she was sort of allowed.

Allowed to climb on uncle Bobby's lap, to kiss his cheek and then immediately complaining that it stings. Allowed to be hugged, kissed, called sweetheart and honey when Dean was called champ, buddy, or lil guy. Sometimes, Sam complained about strangers asking her to give them a hug or a kiss, hiding behind Dean, saying " _I don't wanna_ ". Then Dean said " _You don't have to if you don't want to_ ", and Sammy hugged him instead, holding him the strongest she could. She was two and Dean was already her shield against the world.

She had no idea how much it was true, back then, when she thought their Dad was a traveling salesman. She didn't know anything about monsters, but she was always scared at night. When she was just a baby, she wouldn't stop crying until Dean would take her in his bed. He was just five, but he remembered how to carry a baby. His Mom had shown him, a very long time ago a few days after Sam was born. You needed to hold her head and to be very, very careful.

When they're only together, just the two of them, Sam calls Dean Dee and he calls her Sammy-baby.

That's ridiculous and they both know, but they've been calling each other this since Sam was able to talk, and since Dean held her for the first time.

When she was an actual baby.

Now she still is Dean's but in so many other ways.

John didn't mind that his children slept in the same bed when they were little. That way Sam didn't spent her nights screaming, and Dean didn't feel lonely. He had to admit it, he wasn't very good with children. Not that he didn't love them, he did. But when Mary died, he realized that in four years he had done more or less nothing with Dean. He had never changed a diaper, he had never sung songs with him, he had let Mary choose his kindergarten and didn't know the name of his little friends.

When Mary died, he had no idea what to do with those two kids.

So when Dean began to take care of Sam, and good care, John could only be relieved, and he basically handed permanently the little girl to her brother. No one seemed to complain. And it could have been a little hurtful if he hadn't been so focused on what remained his life goal, finding the demon who had killed his wife.

Being with them all the time, seeing no other children than his own, he didn't realize Sam and Dean were growing tangled up. Sam still holding Dean's hand wherever they went when she was past eight years old. Sitting on his lap. Talking to him in that strange language they had invented. Until they spent a weekend at Bobby's and John saw his children through his old friend's eyes.

Dean was fourteen and Sam was ten. They were entering what they would call later their "twin phase". Same haircut, same clothes, same way of talking. On a hot summer afternoon, they were watching TV, sit on Bobby's couch. Some cartoons were filling the house with childish noises, and Sam was curled up on Dean's side, her head resting on his shoulder. Dean was gently caressing her hair, looking at her with the loving eyes he always reserved for his sister. John had seen that a thousand times. And then Bobby stepped inside the room.

He saw a teenage boy looking at his sister like she was the eighth wonder of the world. A teenage boy he had just proposed to teach how to repair cool cars and who had preferred to stay inside, watching a show about a warrior Japanese school girl.

He hadn't seen the kids in two years and they were really getting weirder and weirder.

 

The argument with John was heated.

 

He wouldn't admit there was something unhealthy going on. These kids were literally growing up in a box, said Bobby, they didn't have friends and spent all their time together. It couldn't be good for them.

It mirrored an old feud they had had when Sam was not even one. When Bobby had begged John to leave him the children, not to drag them in the hunting life where they could get killed, or hurt, or worse. He had to let one of them, or both go. They had to have a normal childhood, go to school, have friends of their age. They couldn't keep on living in the Impala and living like conjoined twins, it wouldn't end up well for neither of them.

Back then, John had refused to listen, and this time he was refusing again. There was nothing wrong with his kids.

That's only when he woke up in the middle of the night and went to check on his children that he realized. Sam wasn't in her bed.

She was in Dean's.

John rubbed his eyes and scratched his jaw, not knowing what to do. They were obviously doing nothing wrong. Knowing the pattern by heart, he supposed Sammy had one of her nightmares and had walked straight to Dean's bed.

But this couldn't last too long, Bobby was right.

Fortunately, the next day Dean left Sammy alone and went outside with Bobby to take his first mechanic lesson. Fortunately Sam wasn't holding Dean's hand, and sat normally beside him when they were watching TV. They started to sleep in their own beds, and to quarrel like normal siblings. Sometimes, you just have to thank God for avoiding you a painful and awkward conversation.

John never knew Sam and Dean overheard his conversation with Bobby. He never knew how scared they were to be separated. How they promised one another they would do anything to stay together.

After all, it was just playing pretend.

 

 

 


	3. The Little Things

Dean likes to kiss Sammy's back, all the way to her neck, to wake her up. It makes her smile, and hide her face in her pillow. She's never been a morning person. Dean has always been the one on guard duty.

Sammy likes to pet Dean's hair, while his head is resting on her lap, to help him fall asleep. She hums old folk songs, talking about lost love and living on the road, until Dean's breathing is calm and even. Sam has always known what it's like to have nightmares.

When you lose someone, it's those little things you miss the most. Even those which used to annoy you.

Like how Sam is a health nut.

How Dean can't eat without stuffing his mouth.

How Sam can be such a bitch sometimes.

And how Dean can be such a jerk.

When Sammy left for college, she missed Dean like a phantom limb. Dean tried to fill the void in his life with cheap booze and sad girls. It was his idea. Since their first kiss he had known he had to save her from him. He had to push her away, in the light, where she belonged.

Do your homework Sam. Be serious about school Sam. I'm sure you can make friends if you try Sam.

It used to make her so mad. Because Dean was basically saying don't be like me, and all what Sam wanted was to be like him. When she was little, she never said she would marry her Daddy when she grows up, like all little girls do. She said she would marry Dean. And Dean felt oddly proud, before laughing and saying it wasn't possible. But Sam had never been the kind of child who takes no for an answer. When she found out brothers and sisters could get married in Ancient Egypt, she asked Dean to call her Princess Cleopatra and they got married dozens of times in the pillow forts they used to build whenever they got bored, waiting for John to come home on rainy days. Sam called them "our pyramid".

Go to college Sam.

Dean knows Sam chose to go to Law School because that's what he would have liked to do. They had that talk once,  about what they would do if they were not hunters and Sammy had said, unsurprisingly, that she would study Egyptology. Dean had said Law School. Because it would be a way to defend people, to save lives, while being, you know, out in the open. Normal. Dean craved for normalcy when Sam only craved for him. For him to be safe, for him to be happy. So she chose Law. And when she showed Dean her application form he couldn't stop a tear to fall from his eye, because he exactly knew what she was doing. Making things better for him.

Don't call me back Sam.

She had to live on her own. He had promised though. He had promised he would call every day, that he would visit, that he would... But he couldn't. She had one shot at this, one shot at a normal life. He couldn't drag her down with him. He realized it the first time he visited, four months after Sam arrived in Stanford. He had stolen a car, because the Impala was at Bobby's after he'd run over a wendigo. He was excited to surprise Sam, until he saw her. She was sit on one of those elegant lawns, surrounded by friends, smiling young people with a bright future. And Sammy was one of them. Her hair was loose, shining in the autumn's sun, and she was dressed like... like a girl. No plaid shirt, no side braid, no worn out jeans, no cow boy boots. And there was that blond guy, who looked like a healthy surfer with his tanned skin and his bright white smile. Dean looked at himself in the rearview mirror and saw the dark circles under his eyes, part lack of sleep part Jack. He saw his dusty clothes, his ridiculous leather jacket and he held Sam's amulet in his right hand. Tight. Feeling his heart beat faster and the tears coming. He didn't belong here. He couldn't barge like this and disrupt this wasp harmony. He couldn't do that to Sammy.

He knew that if he came out and said " _You wanna go for a ride baby girl?_ " she would jump in his arms, call that car garbage and never leave his side again. It was so hard for her to adjust, she'd said it on the phone countless times. I miss you, I can't sleep, I can't make friends, I'm nothing special here, I'm scared. And Dean to say I miss you too but you can do it Sammy-baby, I know you can. You're my brilliant little sis who's a butterfly knife artist, how can you be scared of anything? She had made friends, just recently. Those people were her friends. He needed to leave. He needed to do what you see on TV when scientists free a lion. You walk away and you don't look back. Because whatever happens, majestic creatures like this belong in the wild and not in a cage, even if they're loved and well fed. They belong with their own and Sammy had finally found her pack.

He drove away, fighting the tears because he was doing what was right.

Setting her free.

He wouldn't see her for four years. Until John went missing on a hunting trip. Until he couldn't stand being away from her anymore. Until he sneaked inside her dorm and wrestled with her - like Simba and Nala, she would have said when she was a kid - and saw who had stolen his favorite Batman shirt.

Sleepy Sammy. Her hair now reaching her waist. Wearing her big bro's shirt. Straddling him. The butterfly knife he had offered her for her tenth birthday pointing at his throat.

 _"You jerk!"_ she said, half pissed half amused.

 _"You bitch!"_ he replied, knowing his line. _"Let me go!"_

_"Not before you said it."_

_"Ok you won."_ he answered in a grin

He was going to kiss her when surfer guy came in, wearing the most stupidest smurf shirt and saying

_"Sweety? Who is it?"_

 

Dean thought Sammy had always hated that nickname.


	4. Alien Princess

When she was little, Sammy used to tell everyone she and Dean had been adopted. She had noticed quite early in her life that she didn't look like anyone in her family. Her father had kept a few family pictures, included a portrait of her mother, and Sammy spent countless hours staring at her face in the mirror trying to find a resemblance between her and the blond smiling woman on the old photograph. 

There were none. Her mother was unreal. She was supposed to miss her, she was supposed to have this fierce thirst for revenge. She didn't. She never felt personally concerned by hunting. She never had that undying rage when it came to demons and monsters. A few weeks before her tenth birthday she asked Dean to train her because he was fourteen and John was beginning to think about taking him on cases. She began to act the "bitchiest" possible, saying John had never taken the time to train her so she would be totally defenseless if she was to be left alone. She said that at her age Dean already had his own gun when she could barely touch one without being scolded. Dean saw what she was trying to do, and as usual, sided with her. Yeah Dad, Sammy should be trained, and I can take care of it you know, it's part of my job.

John agreed and the next thing Dean did was buying her a butterfly knife with his pocket money. A knife with her initials engraved on the handle.

_"Why did you choose a butterfly knife Dee?"_

Dean smiled

_"Because you know... Butterflies... That's kind of girly..."_

Sam frowned

_"Jerk."_

_"Bitch. You could say thank you."_

He replied, grinning and ruffling Sammy's hair. She hugged him tight and said

_"Thanks Dean, I love it."_

And she began to spend all her spare time juggling with it, until she became so good Dean used to say if she didn't want to be a hunter later, she could always work in a circus.

In those days, Dean didn't look like anyone either. John was so tall, so butch, no one could see him in Dean's gracious features. He was also getting more and more unstable, and more and more absent. That's the thing, when you grow up, you realize your parents are flawed. And if Sammy knew her father was far from being the typical dad, she still admired it for being so committed to her mother. And Dean always praised him. Saying Dad is so brave, Dad is a hero, Dad saves people. If he was such a big deal, why had she always felt the need to believe she came from another family?

And it didn't make him laugh at all. She understood very quickly it was not something to say in front of him, when a frying pan crashed on the kitchen wall and John began to yell at her that yes, he was her father and she needed to shut the hell up. When he dragged Dean outside, bruising his arm, telling him he hoped he didn't play that kind of stupid games with her, and Dean mutter "No Sir", several times until John let him go and left for the night, coming back home only in the morning smelling like whiskey and cigarettes.

Of course back them she didn't know. She didn't know why, when she asked if she had her mother's eyes, her father replied coldly that Mary had green eyes, with not a single dot of yellow. 

 _"Dean has his mother's eyes"_ he said, looking at Sam with a very strange stare. And later, Dean whispered in her ear

 _"And you have galaxy eyes, alien princess"_ forgetting quickly his promise to his father.

Training Sam took a very long time. Not that she wasn't good, because she was, but because she and Dean knew that they had to stretch the training period long enough, until Sam would reach the age when she would be the one Dean would choose as a hunting partner.

Until Dean reached sixteen years old and disappeared for two months, supposedly "on a hunt".

Sammy stopped talking. Stopped eating. Stopped going to school. 

And finally, finally, John said one day he knew where Dean was, and that they were going to pick him up. Sammy nodded and remained silent the whole trip. When they arrived to a remote farm, John told her to stay in the car and knocked at the house's door. A man came, and they began to argue. Sam couldn't hear everything, only a few words like _"he's my son", "i think you're an incompetent father", "tell him to come down", "he makes his own choices"._

The man slammed the door in John's face, and John came back to the car, scarily silent. Sam felt tears coming to her eyes, why wasn't Dean coming down? When she saw him walking through the door and smiling at her, she rushed out of the car and ran to him, crying his name out loud and endlessly repeating I missed you. 

John looked at his son wiping the tears out of his eyes while hugging his little sister. He heard him say " _I would never leave you, you know that Sammy-baby?_ ". And Sam saying between heavy sobs " _I love you, I love you so much I thought you were dead_ ".

Dean said he loved her too. More than anything. More than life itself.

He still hadn't say a word to his father. He hadn't even looked at him.

When he came inside the car, he sat on the back, close to Sammy and only said.

_"Good evening Sir."_

 

John cut his hair two weeks later.


	5. My Only Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT 12/08: I'm on tumblr at itsakii.tumblr.com. Wish me luck! And I really look forward getting in contact with all of you :)

When Dean is asleep I can see the child he used to be peeping through his closed eyes. When his face finally relaxes, when the crease between his brows disappears, he suddenly looks so fragile and juvenile that when I'm tired, sometimes, it brings tears to my eyes.

Yesterday was a bad remake of The Shining.

Yesterday he was a rabid animal, a vicious son of a bitch, and just a few minutes ago he fell asleep on my lap while I was singing The Wild Mountain Thyme. I've always loved Joan Baez, in another life, I could have been that kind of peace and love woman. Will you go, laddie go?

Who knows what's gonna happen to us now.

When I was looking for him, these last weeks, with my broken shoulder, my sleepless nights and my terror of losing him for good, I thought about that day I got my IUD. I was sixteen and more afraid of getting pregnant than fighting a family of ghouls. I had to go to no less than three different doctors, always repeating the same story. I'm constantly on the road, following my father, we don't have a lot of money, I won't be able to get a prescription when I need to... And those assholes told me that I was underage, that I could also stop having boyfriends, that it was dangerous when you never had a kid and at some point, I just yelled at the last one saying, maybe I'll come back to you in a year when I'm a teen mom living in a trailer park.

I couldn't tell him what I was so afraid of. Not getting pregnant per se. But getting pregnant from Dee. The simple thought of it made me happy, and that feeling terrified me. We were not allowed to have that. Not now. Not ever.

I think I've never hated someone as much as I hated Lisa Braeden. I still do. I'm not proud of it, but I still do.

And Dean hates Alex the Vet borderline hysterically.

Because they were both people we could have built families with. Dean told me he went to Lisa because I asked him to, it was either Lisa or shooting himself. I went to Alex because I hit a dog on my way to crash the Pala. Great way of meeting people right? Hey, I'm broken beyond saving, can I stay with you for a while? Can I have sex with you thinking about someone else? Can I drink myself to death and yell at you for worrying because you won't ever understand?

And when I get tired and eventually leaves, I won't even look back as the tears hit your cheeks.

Because I don't love you, I was just using you.

Dean is the only one I make love with. The others are, have always been, a way to release the pressure. No one knows me like he does, no one knows my body like he does. Just before falling asleep, just now, after I brought him his favorite cholesterol, he kissed me and that simple, simple kiss was almost incendiary. I would have eaten him alive if we hadn't been both so tired.

With the others I'm almost violent. I don't savor, I don't take my time, I just take what I need. And some, many are flattered, call me hot and greedy, and that makes me laugh so much because I'm consuming them like junk food and they're flattered like a diner burger served by mistake in a fancy restaurant. Making love with Dean is a slow burn, a progressive intensity that always leaves me drained, shaken, fulfilled and so deeply loved. I wish it would never end. Every time we touch I have this intense feeling of belonging. Yes I belong here, this is my home, this is my man. My man.

Can we have that?

Or are our lives going to vanish at the end of a blade?

We spent, we lost so much time denying who we were to each other. Almost everyone we've ever known or loved is dead. And yes it's a tragedy, yes it feels like we're cursed, and we are, oh God we are, just by being brother and sister. But somehow, today, we're free. We don't have anyone to spare anymore. Dean doesn't have to dissolve in anxiety because Bobby saw him hug me a little too long.

I'm not asking for white picket fences or for the apple pie life Dee used to dream about when we were kids.

I just want to stop wishing for a painless death.

I just want Dean to believe we can have a future that ain't lighting fireworks on the Elysian Fields, once we've both died as anonymous heroes.

We could have a life together.

Where I can call him my love at the face of the world.

Where I can carry our child.

Where I can grow old.

 

That's the only dream I have left.

 


	6. Hathor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thanks for the comments and kudos, it goes straight to my heart :)

Every night since she found out monsters were real, Sam prays for Dean to be safe. Dean has never believed in God. Dean has stopped believing in anything the night he lost his mother, crying on his house's front lawn with Sammy in his arms, while the fire was ravaging his home. 

Sammy believed in everything.

She believed in the gods, all of them, all the gods of all the mythologies. The Egyptian gods of course, were her favorite. She loved the myth of Isis and Osiris, she loved how Isis loved her brother so much she restored his body and brought him back from the dead after he was murdered by the evil Set. How her love was stronger than death, strong enough to conceive Horus, god of the sky, god of war and hunting.

She didn't know anything about her father real job back then, and she didn't know either how many times she would lose Dean, and how many times he would come back from the dead.

In the winter of 1991, Sam and Dean spent three weeks at uncle Bobby's, in late November or early December, and they were both thrilled to spend those days with their favorite grown up. Dean was hoping they would spend Christmas there, and Bobby said he would talk about it with John. It made Sammy clap her hands with joy, but when Dean saw the crease between the old man's brows, he understood they would probably be on the road by then. But he didn't say anything. Sammy was thrilled to have her first normal Christmas, with a tree, and lights and maybe snow.

She was so happy she even considered getting a gift for her father, and she talked about it to Bobby who asked her what she had in mind. She said something Egyptian. Bobby smiled at her and said he had exactly what she needed, an old and powerful amulet of Hathor. Hathor you see, is the...

_"Wife of Horus, goddess of love and joy."_

She said, grinning with excitement. Bobby smiled at her with a little pride in his eyes and replied

_"Well aren't you smart Sammy, did you know she was also the goddess of the stars? Anyway it's a protection charm, it will keep your dad safe."_

Sammy hid it in her bag and waited impatiently for her father to return. Until he did and told them they needed to leave. He had yet another one of his "leads" to follow. Bobby said why don't you just go and leave me the kids? And John answered he wanted to spend Christmas with them. It broke Bobby's heart when Dean whispered in his ear " _don't worry, I knew all along he would take us away._ ", then smiled and added " _we'll be just fine"_. Poor kid, so young and comforting an old fool like him. But what could he do? With John, he was walking on ice. He knew that if he went just a little too far, he would never see the kids again. And he loved those children like his own. So he let them go.

They settled in Nebraska, in a town named Broken Bow. 

The night they arrived, John said he would leave the next morning "for work", and went straight to sleep, leaving his dufflebag in the kitchen. Sam noticed Dean was annoyed, but as usual, he didn't say anything and started cooking dinner. He was exhausted and disappointed. Well disappointed. He expected nothing and he still felt let down. Since Sammy had always been a slow eater, Dean went to take a shower while she was finishing her mac&cheese. He needed some time alone, some time to drop the happy face he always kept in front of her. 

While he was gone, Sammy tried to turn the TV on but it was broken. She didn't want to finish her plate and she was terribly bored. That's when she saw her dad's bag. That bag he always kept in his room, the bag he always forbid her to touch. She opened it. There was a huge leather journal in the middle of John's clothes. Sammy carefully took it and began to read it. On the front page, there was a picture of her mother, holding a baby, apparently Dean. She wore a summer dress and seemed happy. She began to turn the pages and what she read crushed everything she had ever believed about her life. When she heard Dean coming out of the shower and yell " _Sammy! Shower time!_ ", she hid her father's journal under one of the couch's pillows and tried to smile when she was feeling everything crumbling inside her.

After John left, every time she was alone she would read a few pages. She found out about what happened to her mother. Her mom she was supposed to miss but whom no one ever talked about. About the monsters, and the demons and the scary things under her bed. About the gun hidden under her brother's mattress. She confronted Dean. Saw the emotion in his eyes something saying " _oh no_ " and " _i'm not alone anymore_ " at the same time. She cried, afraid the monsters would get them, afraid her father would get killed, Dean would get killed, and the feeling was so soul crushing she could only sob, and sob, her head buried in Dean's chest, while he was repeating " _sleep Sammy, sleep, it will be all better when you wake up_ ".

When she woke up, the room was a Winter Wonderland.

Dean told her their father had come back while she was sleeping. That he'd tried to wake her up so she could see the tree and presents he brought.

_"But you were so tired you wouldn't wake up and Dad had to leave."_

Sammy jumped out of bed and opened her presents. The first one was a book about oenology. Sammy frowned and Dean stuttered one was never too young to learn about good wine. The second was a gift card, offering a weekend of wine testing in Napa. Dean had to confess he had stolen everything from a posh house down the street.

Surprisingly for him, Sammy jumped into his arms and hugged him. She said thank you several times, and Dean laughed, saying there was no way she would go to Napa drink wine at eight years old. But it wasn't what Sam meant. She meant thank you for being here. She handed him the present she wanted to give John, and after an hesitation, Dean took it, put it around his neck and said he loved it.

Since this Christmas, every single night, Sam lights a candle or looks at the stars, and prays to the goddess.

To keep her lover safe.


	7. My Other Me

_"So what is he like, Henry?"_

Jesse asked me that today, and I made a fool of myself. I was drunk out of my mind and I called him out of a frat house, asking him to come pick me up like some kind of pathetic college waste. And he came, that sweetheart, he came and he made me some tea, put a soft blanket around my shoulders and asked me about "Henry".

I should have kept my whore mouth shut, but I started talking, and talking and talking telling him everything, telling him way too much, and now I've accomplished the prowess of being hungover and horny at the same time. Great.

It's been six months since I last spoke to Dean, and I still feel like my heart has been ripped out of my chest. I dived right back into that old habit of going out and sleeping with strangers, except it doesn't help because Dee isn't there to see me leave with them, because after he won't be there to push me on my bed with his devilish smile, erasing the other's touch and face and name. I can't believe I told Jesse about the first time Dean and I...

And you know what was the first thing I did when I woke up? Checking my phone. Checking my phone thinking he might have called. But no. No missed calls. Yesterday I had one, from an unknown number, and I couldn't breathe, I was so excited, thinking, that's it, he changed his mind, he wants to talk to me. It was a mistake. Wrong number. I guess the lady didn't understand who was the maniac crying at the other end of the line.

I would give anything, anything to just know where he is.

Just to see the look on his face when he saw me with that guy, that spark that said "mine", that should have hurt my pride but instead made be burn for him. I couldn't believe what I was seeing, and at first I didn't. I thought he was just fed up with me dating, well that's a big word, guys in bars, as much as I was with him and his Melinda/Amanda/Belindas. But it still bugged me, that sudden jealousy and the fact that he didn't say she's my sister, but she's with me. Kissing me in front of the whole bar, branding me, holding me close to him... We drove back to the motel and went to bed without a word, without even a good night. And then I couldn't close my eyes, the whole scene was on repeat in my mind.

I've always loved Dean, always. But we've always been like Adam and Eve, one good and righteous son and one devious and rebellious daughter. So it couldn't be that, could it? It couldn't be jealousy, he couldn't want me the way I wanted him. The way that made me so ashamed and pushed me in other men's arms, just to wipe away the thought of his lips brushing my skin. So I went to his bed and I woke him up, thinking I needed to know. Didn't matter if it meant I was going to get a sermon about respecting myself and stuff.

I got a crazy hungry hot as hell kiss instead.

And tears. Because I cried of course but so did he. And that, that was completely unexpected. I didn't expect him to tremble and touch me as if I were made of porcelain. I didn't expect him to break my heart while muttering I'm sorry, I'm so sorry baby into my mouth, while I could only repeat I love you, I love you, I love you...

I love you.

I didn't even take my clothes of. I straddled him and looked at him right in his beautiful eyes. He had that lost little boy look, the one that makes me smile with nostalgia, thinking about my sweet Prince in Exile, my faun, my wonder. And when I felt him inside me, when we begun to move together, eyes locked, heart to heart, I knew there was no going back. There was no let's say this never happened. And I was frightened and glad at the same time, because he had never felt so mine, because I had never felt so complete.

And with time it only became stronger, and wilder, and crazier and I'm dying because it won't ever happen again.

Because I don't know why he left me.

Because actually, I do.

He still wants to be Batman. The lonely hero saving people from themselves while he's drowning with his demons. There is no saving me though, he should know that. I'm irredeemably in love with him, and that won't ever change. If I am to find someone here, if I am to settle down, I will always know that if Dee pops on my doorstep, I will leave with him. 

Whatever the consequences.

Because he's mine.

Mine.

And no one else's.

 

S.

(2002)

 

 


	8. Magpie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention I loved you, darling readers?
> 
> And for those who read it, don't worry I'm not abandoning the Holy Grail, I'm just taking a little break, the time to think about new good chapters.
> 
> Thanks!

Sammy has always been an excellent liar. And a brilliant thief. Dean thinks that if had asked Sammy to steal that peanut butter he would never have been arrested back then, when he spent two month in foster care.

He never asked her to steal anything though. I may seem weird for someone who lives on stolen credit cards, but Dean has always been fiercely honest. Sam has never cared. Maybe three to four month after he got back, John left them again for two weeks, with barely enough money to eat. Dean had asked him the permission to quit school permanently and he had refused, asking him to spend these weeks studying, for once, so he would be able to follow when school would start again in August.

Dean was furious.

He didn't want to go back. Because now he knew that he actually liked school. And if John didn't want to see him quit, it didn't stop him from taking him hunting, sometimes for three to four days straight, leaving Sam alone. There was no way he would manage to get proper grades if he was missing so many classes, so it was better to quit. Coming back was like reopening an old wound, but John didn't seem to understand that. He just wanted Dean to graduate. He had never thought about another future than hunter for him.

Plus his clothes were wrecked. He had begun to grow a lot, finally, and nothing fitted him anymore. He had hoped John would have let him a credit card, or a little money so he wouldn't look like a hobo. He didn't dare to ask though, and John just handed him fifty dollars, telling as usual "take care of your sister" and he left. For the first time, Dean dropped his happy mask and complained to Sam. She listened to him silently, sit on her bed, her chin resting on her palm. She looked so pensive Dean rapidly stopped his rant, smiled and said don't worry Sammy I'm just tired. The next morning when he woke up, he had a pile of new clothes on his night stand.

When he asked Sam where it came from, she casually said she sneaked out during the night, went to the mall and stole them, as if it were nothing. After all, he was the one who taught her how to pick locks. When she saw Dean's outraged stare, she added

_"Don't worry, no one saw me"_

She was still wearing a pair of black jeans, a black henley and had hidden her hair in a black beanie. Dean stuttered

_"You... you can't steal Sam, it's wrong!"_

Sam raised an eyebrow and said

_"Dad saves people everyday. And he doesn't get a salary like normal people do. I think we deserve a little treat. Besides..."_

She said while lifting a shopping bag from behind her bed.

_"I treated myself too."_

Dean took his face in his hands and replied

_"Do you have any idea of what will happen if you get caught?"_

Sam laughed

_"I won't get caught!"_

Dean looked at her, his eyes shining with tears

_"They will take you away. You'll be sent to foster care and I'll never see you again. You're twelve Sam, it won't last two months."_

He bit his lip, hoping Sam wouldn't understand what he was talking about. She didn't, too distraught by her brother's anger. She rose from her bed and sat on Dean's lap, kissing his cheek and said

_"Ok Dee, ok, I won't do it again I promise."_

Dean caressed her hair and whispered

_"I'll find a job tomorrow or I'll... play pool I don't know but don't do that again."_

Sam smiled 

_"How hustling is better than stealing?"_

Dean looked at her and answered

_"Can't be arrested for playing pool Sammy"_

Sammy nodded and after a moment she said, shyly

_"Do we still get to keep the clothes?"_

And Dean laughed, saying yes, they got to keep them. Sammy had found his exact size, and the kid had some taste. When she went out the bathroom dressed with a well fitting pair of skinny jeans, a white tank top and a new pair of red cowboy boots, Dean felt completely dumbfounded.

She was beautiful.

She wasn't his little tomboy anymore she was...

He felt something inside him, like a stab, a sudden emotion which left him speechless. Sammy said

_"What?"_

And Dean rose from his bed. He walked to her and kissed her hair, replying in a smile

_"Nothing. You just look pretty. Little magpie."_

 

Sam never stopped stealing.

She stole Dean's watch in a jewelry store for his seventeenth birthday. She had stolen the collector Metallica album he wanted the Christmas before. She always made up stories about those baby sitting jobs she had found while Dean was on a hunt with John. Dean wasn't fooled at all. He knew it was her way to tell him he deserved nice things, and he loved her for that. 

She deserved the best too.

For her thirteenth birthday, he decided he would get her a real present. Not a gas station present. Not plastic jewelry. Something real, something precious. He stole her a pocket watch, like the white rabbit's in Alice in Wonderland, her favorite childhood story Dean had read her a thousand times. He wasn't as skilled as Sam and had to run away the fastest he could after the alarm began to ring. But it was worth it.

The watch was an antique, a golden one with elegant and finely worked details. When he was finally able to stop running, he stood under a lamp post and took his time to look at it. He wondered who this watch used to belong to. A woman, a man? Someone beloved apparently. In the back was engraved " _To my darling_ ", and Dean thought it was perfect.

Sam loved it and instantly started to wear it like a necklace. She never took it off and at night, she put it under her pillow so she would always hear its tick-tick-tick. Like a heartbeat.

When Dean came inside her Stanford dorm a few years later, the first thing he saw was the watch. Its chain was winded around a red candle jar on an old cabinet. 

 

She had engraved a sun and two horns on the jar. She still believed in the amulet's goddess and it made Dean smile.

Under the sun, he saw an open hand. The Egyptian hieroglyph for the letter D.

Sammy still loved him.

 

 


	9. Celebrate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone :)

It’s Christmas in two days and guess what? I’m invited at Jesse’s. He’s a nice kid, I met him during my first day here and I couldn’t stand his puppy eyes when I told him that I couldn’t care less about Christmas.

_"You sound like my dad"_

He said.

_"I think this year we’re celebrating the Winter Solstice, so hum… Do you think you could care about wiccan traditions?"_

I laughed. Jesse’s parents are a couple of hippie loonies, apparently. I agreed to come. I like weird people. I don’t think I could have survived through a white picket fence / Christmas sweaters / let’s all sings carols in the street weekend. Dean would love it I’m sure.

But he’s gonna spend his Christmas in a roadhouse somewhere, or in the Pala, listening to the radio and drinking cheap bourbon. Because he doesn’t answer my calls, that idiot. Told him he could come though. That I had a cover story for him, that I would fill him in whenever he’d be here. That he could tell dad he had to follow a lead and look all mysterious. Nothing better than a taste of your own medicine, right daddy?

I sent his Christmas present - a old vinyl edition of Physical Graffiti - at Bobby’s, with a very sisterly card. Don’t know if the old geezer isn’t gonna read it. That’s kinda frustrating. There are so many things I’d like to write to him. _"Merry Christmas Dean!"_ Doesn’t cover 1% of them.

If I knew where you were I would come to you, even if you were on the other side of the country, even if you were on the other side of the world. I’d sing stupid Christmas songs for you. I’d drink eggnog. And we would go anywhere you want to, we would do anything that pleases you, even baking Christmas cookies when I can’t even cook mac right. And we’d have a tree if you want one, I’d even buy all the tacky decorations you want. And you’d say that really looks ridiculous but I could see in your eyes that you’re happy. I could believe in Christmas’ wonders, just by seeing your smile. I could believe in miracles just by having you near.

Remember when you stole everything in a posh house down the street when I learned about the family business? Remember all these times when we offered each other gas station presents? When we spent Christmas Eves wrapped in some lost motel’s bed sheets, you caressing my hair and humming the songs we heard on the radio?

That’s my kind of Christmas.

So why aren’t you answering my calls, you stubborn bastard?

 

S.

December 2001


	10. Loose Moose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More kudos! I'm so happy, thank you!

Sam can't be left alone. Loneliness has always made her do stupid things.

Like when John began to take Dean with him on hunts, a few weeks before his seventeenth birthday. In the beginning, it was just for one or two days. He sent Dean on little cases he couldn't handle himself, and Dean was eager to prove to his father he was worth his trust. This simple thing hurt Sam more than it should have. Seeing Dean running after his father's approval was a thorn in her heart.

She knew what he was doing. Separating them.

She saw it in his eyes when she asked if it wasn't a little too soon. After all, it wasn't Dean's last year of highschool yet and if he was away all the time he would miss a lot of classes. John said Dean was mature enough to make his own decisions about school, when a few months before he wouldn't allow him to quit. And when she asked about how she would do without him, John replied Dean had trained her perfectly, that she wouldn't be in danger. So everything was fine, right Sam? And Sam could only nod.

He was ready to sacrifice Dean's future just to keep them away from each other. It started by cutting Dean's hair. Then by buying him the douchiest leather jacket. Promising him the Impala for his eighteenth birthday and the pièce de résistance: taking him to bars. To meet some girls. They were not shy about it and talked about Mindy This or Bunny That at length. It made Sam leave the table early, angrily wiping bitter tears. A few months ago, Dean was still her twin. He was that tall and thin Prince in Exile, who told her everything. And now he was becoming the kind of guy who says "no chick-flick moments".

He liked that? He liked getting drunk out of his mind and fuck those barflies? Fine.

She was really tall for her age. She could talk like an adult and had a couple of fake IDs. The current motel's receptionist's daughter was named Angie and spent her days perfecting her make up and her nails, " _in case Mr Right comes 'round here_ ", she used to say. Sam came to her, asking for make up lessons, and the nineteen year old girl was more than happy to share her knowledge. 

When Sam walked into the bar with Angie, she saw the guys turn and look at her. With her height, her deep voice and her heavy make up, nobody questioned the fact she was seventeen. She spent that first night playing pool with boys, playing to win when Angie was almost lying on the table like a cat. Sam was pretty sure she wouldn't find Mr Right on a pool table, or in the bathroom, but Angie didn't seem to mind being touched by strangers. 

She began to spend all her evenings there, in the Loose Moose. After all, Dean and John were gone for two weeks and no one was waiting for her to come back. Angie always told her to relax, that she was too cold. That wasn't the way she would find herself a little boyfriend.

One night there was a new guy. Young, maybe just a little older than Dean, Angie's age perhaps. He offered Sam a drink, there was Vodka in it and it made Sam's head spin. The guy, Toby, or Tony maybe, put his hand on her thigh and for once she didn't say anything. Physical contact seemed nice. And this hand was troubling. Tingling. He caressed her arm with his other hand and Sam closed her eyes. She opened them when she heard a very familiar voice ordering

_"Hands off, now. Or I fucking cut them."_

Dean. Dean with his pissed off face, his hunting knife in hand. He had left John earlier than he thought, eager to check on Sam. He had had a bad feeling, and when he found the motel room empty he had been scared to death. The receptionist told him that " _Millie_ " and her daughter were at the Loose Moose, like " _every night_ ". He dragged his sister outside and asked her what was fucking wrong with her spending her nights in bars at twelve.

 

Dean told her she didn't belong there. She wasn't one of those girls, one of those sad girls waiting for something, someone, anything, anyone that would take them away. Sammy had tears in her eyes and her make up had smudged. " _How do you know_ ", she said. _How do you know that I'm not one of them. I'm homeless. I'm an orphan. I live in a motel and there's no one, you hear me, no one who waits for me at night now."_

Dean tried to take her in his arms and she pushed him away. He said, angrily

_"Do you know how those girls end up? Do you know where?"_

Sam turned to him, arms crossed and hissed

_"In your bed."_

Dean shook his head in anger. Yes he had started seeing girls these last months. Because that's what guys do, because apparently, girls liked him and... fuck Sammy. It ain't your business who I'm banging!

 _"Stop talking like an asshole!"_ she yelled.  _"This isn't you! This can't be you!"_

Dean began to raise his voice as well, saying that yes, it was him. That he was a grown ass man, that he could date whoever he wanted. Sam made a wicked smile and said she could do just the same, and Dean caught her arm, strongly but not violently, muttering between his teeth that she was underage, and that it would never happen on his watch.

_"On your watch? What watch? You're not even here most of the time!"_

She replied, using an old judo trick to make him let go of her arm. 

 _"He buys you an ugly coat, he promises to give you a car and that's enough for you to leave me behind"_ , she added, fighting back the tears. Dean protested he hadn't left her behind. He was helping their father catching Yellow Eyes, there were leads to follow and...

 _"Leads?"_ said Sammy, now laughing.  _But Dean, don't you get it? There will always be leads! And then other leads!"_

Sam began to walk around the parking lot, pulling her hair, trying to collect herself because she felt close to crumbling

_"He doesn't care about you"_

She yelled, standing right in front of her brother

_"He doesn't love you..."_

And grabbed his leather jacket's collar

_"The way I do."_

Dean hugged Sam, and he felt her sob against his chest. After a moment, they both sat on the sidewalk and Dean whispered

_"I know."_

Sam took his hand and asked

_"What?"_

_"He doesn't love me the way you do."_

Sam smiled sadly

_"I just miss you Dee."_

Dean kissed her temple

_"And I miss you too Baby but if you want to make me happy..."_

Sam looked at him

_"Don't throw your life away."_

She began to cry again, knowing perfectly what he meant. Don't throw our life away like me. He began to gently pet her hair.

_"Go to school, eat your veggies..."_

She laughed through the tears

_"Have good grades, make some friends..."_

He heard Sam mumbling something between don't wanna and don't need against his shirt

_"Well if you mean friends like Angie I agree."_

He said, and he Sam laughed again. He wiped her tears with his thumb and added

_"And I'll soon be there. Told you I'd never leave you, right? "_

Sam nodded and Dean kissed her on the forehead

_"You're the person I love the most in the entire universe. There, I said it."_

Sam smiled incredulously

_"Are we having a chick flick moment?"_

Dean laughed

_"I love you more than anything. You're my teeny weeny little munchkin, and I'm gonna eeeeaaat you!!"_

He said, tickling her, and they both rolled on the asphalt, laughing like little kids. It was so good to have him back.

 

Soon after, they moved and Sam never saw Angie again. When they settled in another town, Sammy became the control freak she still is. She began to run every morning for one hour. She became a vegetarian. She never had a grade below A again. And she kept herself fit and trained for the day she would finally be allowed to hunt with the men.

She wanted to be healthy, smart and strong.

Because that made Dean happy, because she wanted to make him proud.

And even if he still complains she only eats rabbit food and is completely obsessed with her own health, Dean prefers her this way.

Than dancing with demons, drinking blood and crashing her car hoping to die.

Sam can't be left alone. Loneliness has always made her do stupid things.

 


	11. Tainted

Ruben is outside smoking.

I'm pretending to be asleep.

There's a gun under my pillow.

I have a quick decision to make. Do I shoot him? Do I shoot myself? Do I shoot him and shoot myself after?

God. I can't stand this fucking nightmare. I can't lie to Dean. I can't. I can't. I can't. He's back and I...

I lie. I'm not a liar though, am I? That's not me. That's not me. He said I could save the world, that I could stop the Apocalypse but can I trust him? And why does he have to be so damn attractive? He drives me nuts. With his hands, his mouth, his cock, his blood.

I drank my fill just two hours ago and I need more. I need much more. I should know better damn it. I really should. I almost died in that panic room. If the angel didn't let me out I would have died. And Dean... he told me... things...

I don't want think about them. No. No, no, no. If I think about it again I'm gonna shoot myself. And I can't, right? I have to kill Lilith. Because now I can. Ruben said I could. Ruben needs to shut up and slice his wrist and let me rest.

Or maybe I need to kill something.

I'm fucking powerful you know. Really. If I had done that before, I would have saved Dean. I would have killed that bitch just by snapping my fingers and I would have never seen Dee being ripped out by those awful beasts. There wouldn't have been a burial, and Ruben wouldn't have been there, knocking on my door, trying to stop me from getting killed.

Like it was his fucking business.

I told him I didn't want him around, I told him he could just go away. But there he was, telling me I should have listened to him and yeah, yeah I should have, but I preferred to listen to Dean as I always do and it resulted in me crying my heart out above his grave, not caring Bobby was there, not caring at all. I tried everything to have him back, selling my soul, selling someone else's soul, dark magic, everything, and when it became clear there was no way I could have him back I thought, okay then, I'll have my revenge and then I'll kill myself. Luckily enough, I will have spilled so much blood I'll end up in Hell and continue the fight there.

I was that mad.

Nobody messes with Samantha Millie Winchester.

And then there he was. The guy was in a coma Sam, I'm alone in that body Sam, you can trust me Sam. Fuck it. Did he really have to possess an god damn Ken doll again? Did he really have to kiss me when I was drunk and God knows, God knows how promiscuous I am when I'm drunk, and then... and then...

I think Dean doesn't love me anymore.

He called me a monster and he slapped me. He had never laid a hand on me. Ever.

I was so happy when he came back. Happy doesn't even cover 1% of what I felt when he walked inside my hotel room.

Why does it have to be like this now? Why can't he just understand I'm trying to do the right thing for us all I mean... That blood is clearly killing me. I don't know if he sees that. When I stop, when Ruben stops giving me his blood, I'll just die. I'm ready to go that far for everyone to have a life and Dee only sees the black eyes and the scary powers but baby... can't you see that's not gonna last? I'm a dead girl walking and I don't even care anymore.

I don't care because if we're over I don't want to live.

And I feel so dirty, so tainted, so impure.

That's why I come back to him, the demon. I guess I wanna know how low I can go, what I would do for just a drop of blood. And I would do so many, so many, many things. I disgust myself. The blood is drowning my brain and everything I do, I do to have more of it. To feel that warmth invading my body, and the power, making me feel hungry, horny and greedy, shutting down the guilt, making me fucking that demon like there's no tomorrow, when we are. We are tomorrow and right now I could just rip my own skin with my nails.

I just want it to end.

Hopefully tonight, in that convent, it will be finally over.

 

S.

_(2007)_


	12. Euphemism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT 03/11: Thank you for the kudos! I've just logged again since I've published this new (and quite short) chapter and I just saw the new kudos... Thanks, really!

He's not okay, he's not okay.

I want Cas out, I want everybody out. I want to close the bunker's door and us to stay locked there until we die.

I want to believe he's fine when I feel his hands on me, when I feel his nails grazing my back, and his tongue right behinf my ear. He's clinging to me like I'm his lifebuoy and God... I've been in this place before. He killed Cain tonight. And he fell in my arms right after, not caring we were in public or anything. He went to me. And I told him it's okay, you're okay baby, I'm here, I'm right here for you.

Baby.

First time it slips through my lips with other people around. Not that Cas and Crowley don't know anything. But appearances and stuff. It used to be of importance. Now I couldn't care less. This thing, this poison is getting between us and there's nothing else I can do than holding him at night, that guiding him inside me because that's where he belongs. I kiss his fingertips like he's the most precious thing on Earth, and he is, to me. Do you know Dean has really soft hands? He has long fingers, and long nails, just like a woman. I used to tell him that to piss him off when we were kids. Not that I was complaining. Long, soft and talented fingers. He was so beautiful then, a different kind of beautiful. The kind who makes women and men turn around and stare. The kind who makes his girl be ready to crack the skull of her rivals.

I've never been touched the way he touches me. He knows my body just like he knows every single forgotten road in the Midwest. He can make a panting mess out of me within seconds, just by using his hands. Just by whispering in my ear the same sweet nothing, that I'm beautiful, that he's gonna make it good, that I'm his and only his. So that my competitive side can show, so that I can push him on the bed and have my ways with him. I love him when he trembles under my touch, when he's lying in front of me, naked and defenseless, only waiting for me to start turning him nuts. 

If Cas could only get the fuck out.

He's worried of course, I get it. But how do you explain to an angel that what we both need right now, Dean and I, is our best way to release the tension and make it okay again? How do I tell him to see if he doesn't have angel business to take care of so I can go bite my brother's pretty lips and stay locked here for at least a day?

 

Update: I did it. Told him Dean and I needed to rest. I love my sense of euphemism.

 

Dean is sleeping.

 

I'm just gonna snuggle near my love and watch over him while he sleeps.


	13. Sweet Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thanks for still being here! 
> 
> Surprisingly enough I get a lot of inspiration and I really think it's thanks to your support. If you like this story you can also check out the others I wrote, I hope you'll like.
> 
> Thanks again!

Dean likes to say Sam has terrible taste in men. 

Sam laughs at this and replies he can't really brag about his taste in women.

They both like broken people. People like them. They can't really get along with normal ones, those who had this apple-pie life Dean idealizes so much. Being with one of them is like infiltrating, you can never be yourself. You need to lie all the time, every day, because they can never stare at the bottomless pit that is your soul. 

Lisa Braeden was one of those. 

And Jesse Moore another one.

Dean would have liked to hate Jesse but he soon realized that was never going to happen. He wanted to despise that man child, with his blond curls, his white teeth and his baby skin. He looked like someone who had never had any problem in his life. Who grew up under the Californian sun, spending his afternoon surfing and going home at night to loving and normal parents.

How could he be Sam's boyfriend?

How could he handle her bursts of anger, of hunger... Sometimes even Dean didn't feel strong enough when she had that light in her eyes, pushing him on the bed, taking advantage of every minute of John's absence. He was the kind of boy she could tear to little pieces, and there she was holding his arm, kissing his shoulder and looking at him with a gaze she used to reserve for Dean.

When he said John had disappeared on a hunting trip, Jesse said

_"Oh God... You father, the veterinarian?"_

And Dean understood Sam had made up an imaginary past. Of course she had. Stupidly enough, it made him feel a little better to know that the little cherub didn't know the truth. Sam looked at Dean, with a stare which meant " _don't screw up_ " and Dean nodded. Jesse added

_"Sam told me he uh... regulated wild animals population in National Parks?"_

Dean smiled, but Sam saw in his eyes something sarcastic, and she frowned a little. Dean saw it, and coughed, saying

 _"Yeah. I had a call from uh, Bobby",_ he looked at Jesse and precised,  _"a ranger Sam and I know since we were kids; and he thinks it's quite serious this time"_

Jesse shook his head

_"Dude... I'm so sorry."_

While holding Sam closer. She leaned on him for a bit and said

_"Don't worry babe it's probably nothing. It happened a lot when we were kids he uh... can get so caught up in his work that he forgets to call."_

Dean tried to hide his growing impatience

_"Sammy listen... I'm really afraid he got hurt... he was after a..."_

He coughed again

_"A bear. A big, dangerous grizzly bear and he went after it alone."_

Sam pushed Jesse away gently

_"The one who killed a she-bear in front of her two cubs?"_

Dean nodded

_"This one."_

Sam sighed and rubbed her eyes

_"Well, I've always told him to leave that bear alone."_

Dean was going to protest when she said

_"I'm coming with you. Babe? Would you mind taking Dean to the 24/24 diner so he can have some breakfast? I'm gonna take a shower and pack."_

Jesse kissed her on the temple and Dean had trouble hiding his jealousy.

_"Sure sweety, sure."_

But it felt nice to see that Sam remembered he forgot to eat when he was under pressure, until he was starving and stuffed himself with cheap pie and burgers. She wanted him to have a nice meal, and when she went to the bathroom, she discreetly put a twenty dollar bill in his pocket. He felt like kissing her again, but he could only follow Jesse who had passed on a beanie and a pair of jeans.Fifteen minutes later they were having a 5.30 AM breakfast. Jesse was still wearing his smurf shirt and it didn't seem to bother him at all. While Dean was having a second cup of coffee, he was still lazily stirring his tea. A tea drinker, like Sammy. He said

_"I'm so happy to meet you Dean. Sam talks about you all the time!"_

Dean tried not to look too surprised

_"She does?"_

_"Yeah, she always talks about her big bro the archaeologist!"_

Dean almost choke on his pancake. Fuck Sammy, what the hell did you invent this time? If he was supposed to be an archaeologist, then he was supposed to talk and look a certain way, like an educated man. He didn't wear the proper clothes, but his jacket looked Indiana Jones enough not to sink his credibility. While Jesse was talking, he slowly changed his posture, sitting properly in his chair and preparing himself to talk like someone who has a PhD. 

_"She told me you were in Eastern Europe to write your Thesis on uh... the supernatural? Basically?"_

Dean smiled, thinking, don't ask me to tell you something in Russian, please, please, please.

_"How was Romania?"_

Dean coughed. Bullshit time. If Sammy said Romania, it meant vampires. He just needed to talk about the _strigoi_ , it was after all a subject he knew quite well, and Sam remembered. Like a good little soldier, she had her story covered. Jesse listened to him with interest, his chin resting in his palm like a child. After a few minutes, Dean asked him, in a very polite and controlled voice

_"And what about you? I was uh... so busy with my research I'm afraid I completely forgot about..."_

Jesse smiled

_"Don't worry man... My dad's a writer so i know what it's like to be lost in something."_

As he had guessed, Jesse came from a nice and normal family. He was from southern California and yes, he had spent all his afternoons surfing. His parents were some kind of West Coast hippies and Jesse said, laughing, that him studying law was his own version of a late teenage crisis.

_"I'm sure they'd have preferred visual arts or something like this, but they chilled when I said I'll be able to defend oppressed people later."_

Dean tried hard not to roll his eyes, smiled politely and asked him how he had met Sam.

_"Well, we met on the first day and uh... back then she was still with her ex and me with mine..."_

Dean raised an eyebrow

_"Her ex?"_

Jesse answered

_"Yeah uh... Henry? Campbell, I think. You know, the one who dumped her on the phone..."_

Henry, Dean's middle name. Campbell, his mother's maiden name. Of course he knew who that scumbag was. Himself. Jesse continued

_"So we were friends and uh... after her breakup she began to go out a lot, you know... partying and everything. But she still had great grades with pretty much no sleep..."_

Dean suddenly looked a little sad

_"Oh I'm sorry dude, you probably didn't know."_

Jesse said, taking his hand. Dean fought hard against his instinct to shove his hand off. This wasn't the way he had been raised to interact with other men. But here, he was Dean the archaeologist. He gently tapped Jesse's hand.

_"It's fine. I was just... away, you know. And she will always be my little sister."_

Jesse smiled

_"I know, I'm a big bro too. Anyway, at some point I got worried about her so I told her to move in with me and my roomie Mark; that was two years ago. Six months later we were together and Mark moved out shortly after."_

Dean said innocently

_"I hope being in the friend zone for so long was not too hard on you."_

Jesse frowned

_"Dude... She was really my friend you know? I wasn't expecting anything. It just... happened. One day we were on the couch watching Ghostbusters and she just... kissed me."_

Dean flinched a little and Jesse added

_"Sorry man, too much info maybe?"_

And Dean shook his head, still smiling, thinking yes, it was way too much information. That boy was a sweet kid. Sam had made the first move. Sam had chosen him, she had chosen someone to stay with, not just one more one night stand. 

_"Anyway I love her... my parents adore her and uh... I was thinking about... asking her... you know... to marry me?"_

He said with a shy smile, his cheeks a little reddened by embarrassment. Dean suddenly needed whiskey. And a lot. He smiled wider

_"That would be wonderful!"_

He said and Jesse smiled to him like a child, saying

 _"Well my folks are probably going to say that getting married is_ petit-bourgeois,  _but we'll just add this to all the rebellious things I've done, like refusing to smoke my dad's organic pot, and wear my underwear when I went to Burning Man."_

This time, Dean honestly laughed. There was nothing to hate in this kid. Sam had made a good choice, and even if it hurt, it was a bittersweet pain. 

Jesse had no scars, no fears, nothing he needed to drown in alcohol, sex and cigarettes. 

He was ideal.

When Sammy left, he told her he would bake her favorite macadamia nut cookies when she'd be back. He hid a little " _be careful, I love you_ " note in her bag. He sent her text messages everyday to see if she was fine, if they had found their dad.

She received one when Dean told her, as she was staring at his wet body, lying on his bed and barely hidden by his towel, _"I missed you"_.

Because Dean was far from being ideal.

He was selfish, and scarred, and possessive. He wanted to wipe the sweet boy's memory out of Sam's mind. He was pretty sure he wasn't the kind to push her against the wall and to wait for her to move, his lips an inch away from hers.

When Sam threw his towel away and bit his lip, he knew she hadn't changed.

When he dragged her out her burning room, he knew he hadn't either.

 

The first thing he thought was he finally had her back.


	14. Marry A Lie

It's been three weeks since Jesse's funeral.

It's been three months, it's been three years. I don't even know. It's like I've never left for Stanford. This morning I braided my hair. On the right side. Reverse french braid. Hadn't done that in four years and here I was, looking at my face in that dirty mirror, with a flannel shirt on just like in the old days. I fucking hate flannel. But that was the only wearable thing I got to buy here in Redneckville. Two days ago we killed a wendigo. It was like a bad remake of the Blair Witch Project. Stuck in the forest with retarded campers...

I'm so bitter.

Madeline and Steve have let me five messages and I still haven't found the courage to answer them. How can I tell them their son was going to marry a lie? It's my fault, it's all my fault. I should have told him who I was, I should have remembered that you don't shake off the Winchesters' curse so easily, that fancy buildings and shiny degrees don't protect you from evil. My sweet innocent baby...

I used to despise normal people. I used to believe that I was nothing like them, and I was proud of it, proud of being... yeah, "homefree", and outlaw, a Calamity Jane and now the only thing I want is to go back to my dorm and sleep, sleep, sleep.

I can't sleep. I can't close my eyes. Every time I do he's on the ceiling. He had made me cookies. There was a little note, missed you, love you, with a little heart. Who does that?

The coffin was sealed and Madeline asked why. I thought I was gonna scream.

Dean is out, he went to the groceries and he looked at me with his worried eyes I know so well when I told him I preferred to stay here. He's afraid I'm gonna do something stupid. Almost did. If he hadn't been there to hold me I would have ran right back to Jesse and burn like an Indian widow.

Jesse awakened things in me I thought didn't exist. I didn't know I had some innocence left. I didn't know I could enjoy spending an entire weekend curled up in a blanket, drinking hot cocoa and watching Friends rerun. I didn't know I liked video games. Or children movies like the Goonies or Willow or...

I didn't know I had a future. Before him, my only dream was dying a painless death, possibly with Dee at my side. Jesse made me believe in pretty houses, and children, and family and holidays on the beach and now he's gone. Everything we had has turned to dust.

But there's a nasty voice at the back of my head who keeps on repeating "you would have died for him, but would he have done the same if he had known who you were?".

Fuck you.

But that's a real question. Jesse never really knew me, he only knew what I let him see.

There's only one person who knows every single one of my secrets. And who can still look me in the eye and tell me he loves me.

Dean.

And that's killing me.

Because the moment Dean walked back into my life I wanted his hands, his mouth, every single part of his body. I wanted to hear his voice in my ear, his words, this Kansas drawl that I lost... And I felt more alive under his touch than I had ever in four years. I pushed my nails so hard in his shoulder that he bled. He took my hand and licked his own blood, smiling like the devil and I knew, I knew I had to get out of this place the quickest possible or I would just drown in him again.

I lean into his touch like a cat in heat. I burn under his fingertips, under his tongue, under every part of him. And in the morning when I look at my smudged makeup, my messed up hair and the little scratches his scruff has made on my chin I feel like breaking every mirror in the room. At night I ask for more.

I cheated on you with my older brother. Twice. I've been with him since I was sixteen. And he's not an archaeologist, just as my Dad isn't a ranger. We hunt monsters. I grew up with a gun under my bed, and I've killed more creatures than you can ever imagine. I'm a fucked up whore... And yes I'm drinking, yeah it's a bottle of bourbon in my hand, because you know what? I also grew up in bars, roadhouses... I dated countless rednecks and I can assure you I ain't never been known as romantic. So what do you say now? Do you still wanna marry me?

There's only one guy who can hear that and still call me his baby.

 

Dee.

I'm going to Hell.

 


	15. Protection

Dean doesn't like to train, or work out. He's an excellent shooter and he thinks that's enough. The truth is, working out reminds him of all these hours spent with John yelling at him, like the sergeant in Full Metal Jacket, until his body was completely transformed. It was a nice change apparently. Something he was supposed to anticipate. He didn't really. He liked being Sam's faun. Now he was that tall, strong and broad shouldered man, wearing an old leather jacket John had bought him in a thrift shop.

According to his father, he looked manly and would soon be a little heart-breaker. According to his sister, he looked like a douche. But even if it was tough sometimes, he liked hunting with his father. Well liked. It was John's version of father-son quality time. When normal dads take their sons playing baseball, John took Dean on hunts, and they bonded over shooting werewolves or whatever was the monster of the week. Until then, Dean had no idea what his father's life was like, what a hunter's life was like. Even if he had spent countless nights being scared of every single shadow, even if he had cried many times out of loneliness and helplessness, back then he was living in a comfortable dream bubble. Because Sammy was there, because Sammy made everything look magical.

You wouldn't guess it seeing her now. Her skin has thickened and she's been through too much. But when she was a child, her imagination could turn the most gloomy motel in a palace. Dean used to invent stories for her when he couldn't find a book to read, and it happened a lot. And after some time, when she grew up, she began to make up her own, in which they were always the main characters of extraordinary adventures. Even learning about monsters didn't stop her need to brighten their daily lives. When Dean began to train Sam, it was like a game. They were secret agents a day, superheros the other. They often finished the training lying on the ground laughing until they cried. That's certainly why Sam is a sport freak. Training doesn't ring a bitter bell.

Sam isn't physically strong, but she's fast. She can run at full speed for an hour, and she's nimble like a cat. She's always loved to climb on trees, and since there was no gym or no place she could go to train, she used her environment to learn how to climb and jump, to walk on narrow girders... Dean likes to say Sam invented parkour before the term even existed. She could have broken her neck a hundred times, but the worst she got was a sprained ankle. Of course, she trained like this when Dean was away. If he had seen her testing her balance on a crane, he would have most certainly had a heart attack. She wanted to be an asset, to be efficient. Since the moment John started to take Dean hunting, her only idea was being strong enough to come with them.

To protect Dean.

It made him roll his eyes and say that he was now strong enough to protect himself, but Sam disagreed. She knew how eager he was to prove himself to his father. She knew how John could be oblivious of everything, his children safety included, when it came to hunting. Whenever they left she prayed every single night for Dean to be safe, for him to come home. And when he did, she saw the dark circles under his eyes, she saw something tarnished in his gaze that used to be so bright. And she was passed thirteen. Too old to make up stories and even though she tried sometimes, he wouldn't listen, saying he wasn't a child anymore.

And his grades were terrible. He became less and less interested in school, even if Sam picked up his homework and tried to help him keep up. He didn't want to. He had never fitted in school and it was getting worse. He wore his ugly jacket, his attitude and shut everyone out. Even Sam. Whenever she asked him to tell her about hunting, he just said something like " _We went after a rugaru, I killed it, and voilà."_

At some point, Sam got fed up with the cocky act, and confronted him. About all these nights he spent in bars, when he had told her it wasn't a place for them just a couple of months ago; the girls he dated, the new scars he had on his back, his lack of sleep, the Jack he poured on his morning coffee... Dean resisted at first, saying everything was fine, a-ok, that he was a hunter, that she couldn't understand yet, that it wasn't her business.

If Sam had been a boy, maybe she would have backed down. She would have respected this authority card Dean was trying to pull. She would have respected his right to refuse to express himself.

But Sam hadn't been raised like this, and Dean could only blame himself for that.

She yelled at him

_"Cut the bullshit Winchester!"_

And after a heated exchange Dean finally told her why he couldn't sleep anymore. He had seen too much. Too much torn up bodies, too much blood. Evil, cruelty, black magic. All those terrible things happening at night. When he was a kid, even if he slept with a gun under his mattress it was still unreal. Because except for this one time Sam couldn't remember, they had never been attacked. The monsters were lurking outside. But it was all a lie. There was no safe place. There are monsters that can go past the salt, past everything. Monsters that can make you mad, mad enough for you to slaughter your children and eat them. He had seen a guy in psychiatric hospital, trying to tear his eyeballs out, needing to be restrained after he was forced to witness the murder of his wife. And the list went on, and on, and on...

In the beginning, Dean said all this with a tone which meant " _you wanted to know so there you go_ ". After a few minutes, his voice softened, and it was like some dam had been broken, he couldn't stop talking and Sam had taken his hand, fighting the tears coming to her eyes, because this wasn't about her.

When it finally stopped, Dean looked at Sam and saw her teary eyes, her pale cheeks and he hugged her, apologizing. She pushed him back and said

_"Don't. Never apologize to me."_

She rubbed her eyes

_"Does he know? I mean... Dad... does he know?"_

Dean had a little sad smile

_"Not really no. Says the fear comes with the job that you just need to uh... get stronger."_

Sam frowned, clenching her fists in anger and Dean ruffled her hair. She didn't need to say a word for him to see how pissed she was at John. She said she would soon be strong enough to come with them and Dean shook his head

_"Sammy no... I don't want you involved in this... I don't want you to see any of this..."_

Sam took Dean's hand again and kissed it, saying

_"I won't let you do that."_

Dean asked what she was talking about and she replied

_"If you think you can sacrifice yourself for my sake then no, I won't let you do that."_

Dean smiled, and tears came to his eyes. Sam was the only one who always saw right through him. She added

_"If I need to pretend that I love our glorious lifestyle and can't wait to begin hunting, I will."_

Dean hugged her

_"I don't want you to."_

Sam kissed his neck and whispered

_"I don't want you to either. But you won't quit, will you?"_

Dean sighed

_"I can't."_

Sam held him closer and said

_"So just bear with it until I'm old enough and Dee?"_

Dean kissed her hair

_"Yeah?"_

_"Don't ever shut me out again"_

She felt his smile on her skin

_"I won't."_

 

Since this moment, Dean could only fall asleep in Sam's arms, listening to her singing, focusing on her hand running through his hair, and on the feeling of safety that invaded him when he was resting on her lap, smelling the scent of her coconut shampoo and the warmth that was just her.

How a strong man like him could feel protected by a tall and thin little grasshopper like her?

It was a mystery.

Or maybe it was just love.

 

 


	16. I Forbid It

I'm in a very bad mood.

This case reminded me of many things I can't stand. Memories I'd rather forget and painful truths I'd rather avoid. 

So things I hate: the army, suburbs and parasites. The army: dad and his yessirs. The suburbs: Lisa Fucking Braeden. Parasites: because parasites. 

It asks me a lot of efforts to fake the concerned look of someone who actually cares about soldiers. Someone who actually believe they went wherever they went and did whatever they did "for the country", "for freedom", "so we could all be safe". I feel like screaming or laughing or both. No my poor darling. Your husband was just a tool. Used by something far greater than him, to fight for interests that were clearly not his, and now he's lying in a box for absolutely nothing. You can be fooled by the flags and "he was a hero ma'am", but deep down you know he wasn't. That he was just a hammer and that for some kid on the other side of the world, he's the one who killed daddy. 

You imagine how thrilled I was to investigate a military base.

Suburbs. It wasn't her fault but the poor woman who lost her husband last night, killed by my hand, she looked just like Lisa. She had even the same suspicious look when I entered her living room the first time. I can still hear Lisa's voice "so is that your... sister?". Yes and now I would like my brother back please, thank you, get out. I was soulless and making plan to get rid of her, and have it look like an accident. Anyway. The fake smile, the framed picture (marriage, husband with gun, husband in a uniform...), all this contrived domestic bliss it always makes me nervous and sarcastic. I feel like mocking everything and Dean doesn't understand why. He's always had a soft spot for conformism and barbecues.

I don't know how you can settle for something so fake. I hate faking. I remember when I was a teenager and the few times I got to play those stupid kid games, like truth or dare, or never have I ever. How I had to lie, and how I loathed it. I counted the days until I would have some time off with Dee, until I could finally feel his hands and mouth on me, something true, real, solid, something I could lean on. Not a plastic perfect pretended life with Daddy's a traveling salesman. No. Real raw reality where I can die any day and I love this man in the old car enough to blow my brains out if something happened to him.

God, I'm so mad at him right now.

_"Sometimes the man just dies"_

What the hell does that mean Winchester?

You're just gonna let this fucking thing eat you? You save GI Joe's life but not yours? You have a wife and a family to come back to he told him. And what about us? Doesn't he have someone to come back to as well? Does he just want to disappear into the sunset like it's a fucking cow boy movie? You know normally I would just come to him and tell him all that. But he's sick and I know it so instead I just take out my anger on this paper but really. Fuck.

I watched everything, several times. I tried everything I knew to find a cure to this thing and he doesn't even let me work. I should be researching, we should use our time to go to libraries, colleges, to talk to linguists I don't know... Try something. And instead he wants to hunt until he dies and I have no idea why he's doing that when he sees I'm working my ass off to save him and when he know I can't live without him.

What the hell Dee...

He's making mac and he's whistling in the kitchen. Fucking whistling. There's a large probability for me to throw the pan away and to yell at him until he finally gets to the point and stops shutting me out. I'm gonna throw the worst tantrum he's seen in years, and if I have to roll on the floor to have answers, I will.

He's not dying.

I forbid it.


	17. Human Monsters

When you spend your days hunting supernatural monsters, at some point you forget human ones exist. There are human monsters. Humans hurting each other. Without being possessed, without having sold their soul to a demon. There is as much sin, anger, violence and cruelty in humanity than in other species. But that's a reality that hunters don't want to see. Hunters like to see the world in black and white. You save people, you kill monsters. No in between, no complexity, no grey area. Because otherwise, there is no safe place anymore.

But some monsters are not afraid of salt, symbols and incantations.

They're afraid of sirens and prison.

So of course, Sam was trained to kill monsters. Not to avoid strangers, especially those who look nice and who are just asking for directions. 

 

It had been two and a half year since Dean had begun hunting alone and with John. He had dropped out school, which made Sam absolutely furious. In spite of her efforts, she saw they were irremediably drifting apart. Dean wasn't asking his father to let her hunt anymore. He was spending way too much time on the road, and way to many nights in bars. They had started fighting, for real this time, about Dean's growing alcoholism, about the girls he brought back, about the way he acted and talked. About everything. Sam couldn't handle the change in her brother's behavior, she couldn't stand seeing him turning into a younger version of John.

She had started thinking about him as "John" recently, and it helped that he often required to be called sir. The lack of result in his quest made him more and more bitter and obsessed. Sam was sort of spared because she was a girl, because he saw her as unfit for hunting, despite her training, despite how tall and muscular she was for a woman. One of the last nice things Dean had told her recently was that she looked like an amazon, and she did, with her thin muscles and her fiery hair. But it was never enough to John. To him, she was just not strong enough, and of course, if Sam had had to fight, she would have never tried to win in single combat, she would have used other techniques. When John finally accepted to test her, she ended up knocked out on the ground, with Dean screaming at his father. John said she wouldn't win against a monster by escaping or climbing.

He was wrong.

Within the years, Sam realized she actually liked studying. Making friends was hard though, especially girlfriends, because she didn't know what to tell them. Girls seemed to belong to an inaccessible world with its own codes she couldn't understand. She had after all had pretty much no regular contact with an adult woman since she was born. It was easier to be friend with boys, though Sam didn't know what boundaries she had to put or not, so she wouldn't be ill considered. She had always been close to Dean, so it was only natural for her to be close to them. And apparently, girls disapproved that behavior, especially when one of Sam's friend was their boyfriend. She didn't understand the boyfriend/girlfriend dynamic either, or the concept of dating. When a boy invited her to the movies she came, and if another one bought her a cup of coffee the next day she didn't say no. To her it was only seeing a movie and drinking a hot beverage, she hadn't been raised to decipher those subtleties. So Sam had this reputation of dating several boys at the same time, and her way to react to the rumors did nothing to tame them.

She used to say what Dean would: _"If I wanted to bang one, I'd bang one. I wouldn't go an watch a fucking movie instead."_

The fact that she'd never had a boyfriend didn't change a thing. She had her own version of what a relationship with a boy should be. Everything or nothing. She didn't want to lose her time ignoring the elephant in the room, or making out on public benches for two hours. She wanted something real, adult, strong. Something she couldn't have yet, something she didn't feel ready for yet. 

So studying was easier. Books were way less complicated than people or relationships.

There was a coffee shop she liked studying in then. They were back in Kansas, and it was really uncommon to see such a nice place in a small town like this one. Sam loved it. It was far from being those depressing diners she knew too well. It was cute. And they had tea. She was more and more disgusted by coffee. One evening, she was so caught up in an essay she completely forgot to go home. It was when the waitress told her she had to close that Sam realized it was passed eleven. She didn't want to be a nuisance, so she didn't ask that woman who now knew her by her first name, to drive her back to the motel. It wasn't after all a long walk. Maybe twenty minutes tops.

After ten minutes, a car stopped close to her. A couple, with a sleeping child, maybe five or six years old, sleeping in the back seat.

The man said the child was sick, could she be nice enough to tell them where the next hospital was?

Sam tried to explain him, but the man was so nervous he didn't understand anything. Maybe she could come with them? They would drive her home after, she didn't have to worry.

They were a family with a sick child. No one had ever told her to be wary of a family.

She got in. And she disappeared.

When Dean received a phone call from the motel's receptionist, saying Sam hadn't come home, his first move was hoping she hadn't started spending her evenings in bars again.

When the woman added the police had found her backpack on the side of an isolated road, Dean drove the fastest he had ever driven in his life.

 

No monster he had ever fought took the time to hide its victim's belongings. Or to crush her cellphone. 

Except the human ones.

 


	18. In Dean's Wallet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought you'd like to see some pictures of Sam ;)

_"Don't take...what are you doing?" (2000)_

_Dean, seriously you know I hate pictures! (2001)_   
  


_College days. (Taken by Jesse. 2003)_

__

_On a case. New haircut. (And new camera! 2006)_

 


	19. Partners

Sam can have the coldest eyes and the coldest rage. She's not the kind to scream and break furniture. Dean on the other hand, is good at denying until he explodes like a nuclear bomb.

When the officer told him " _We're doing everything we can, boy_ ", he had to focus really hard not to smash his fist in his face for calling him boy, and saying that sitting on his chair like the useless pile of fat he was. Sam had disappeared ten hours ago. Ten hours. A witness had said he had seen her getting in a car, a SUV, between eleven and eleven thirty. It was ten. Dean had driven all night long, trying to reach his father on the phone, leaving dozens of messages. Something happened to Sammy Dad, something bad.

Why had she got inside an unknown car? Why? Wasn't it the first thing kids were supposed to be taught? Don't talk to strangers?

Fuck Sammy... Dean couldn't think straight. Actually he couldn't think at all, his hands shaking with all the caffeine, his right one holding the amulet, repeating to himself, oh please Sam's goddess if you exist, please protect her, please, please, please, I don't want to lose her. He was helpless. He could track a monster, not a stupid family car. The witness had said the guy inside looked like nothing particular. White, middle aged, brown hair. A John Doe, a Mr Anybody. There was nothing he could do and John wasn't answering his phone.

Sam was right. He should have never left her alone. Why had he even done that? It seemed like yesterday when he had surprised her with buying fireworks for the Fourth of July. He wanted to make her happy, he wanted to show her she was still the most important person in his life and then he just... He just got sucked in. By the life. By hunting, by proving John he was worthy of his quest, by building his little reputation as John's son, you know Dean? The one who used to be so frail? Well he got big and strong, one of the best hunter I've ever met. And a pussy magnet, I fucking swear!

That's what he liked to hear, that's what he wanted people to say about him...

Because they used to look at him as if he were some kind of curiosity, with his androgynous face and his slender wrists. Even his father couldn't stand it. When Sam... Elves don't listen to human gossip Dee, she used to say. He laughed in his hand and tears came to his eyes. I want to hear that again. Oh God, I want to hear her voice again. See her face, the little freckles on her nose, her long red curls. He wanted to hug her and to never let her go, and her absence became suddenly so soul crushing he felt like he needed a drink, or several, just to control the pain and the anger. He had always known he loved Sam, but now he knew how much. Enough to kill him if something happened to her

_"Do you leave her alone often? Where is her father? Are you her legal guardian?"_

He needed to focus, to answer the questions properly, because if he didn't, even if Sammy was found they could take her away. So no, it didn't happen often, almost never actually, officer. He had to make up excuses for John, for himself, try to smile, to seem like a reliable young man, to hide the fact that his everything inside him was collapsing. His phone rang, John was on his way. Dean bit his lip not to yell "It's about fucking time!" in the police station. 

He had given a picture of Sam and then, here she was, on the local news, with her favorite striped shirt and her happy days smile.

_"Samantha Winchester, fifteen years old, has disappeared last night. She was last seen getting in a black or blue SUV... Please call..."_

Dean couldn't look, couldn't listen. He called Bobby outside, finally cried on the phone. Saying I don't know what to do Bobby, what do I do? And Bobby said

_"Exactly what you're doing kiddo."_

Reassuring him, telling him he had trained Sam perfectly, that the kid was resourceful. Yeah but what if? Don't think about the what ifs son, it's gonna drive you mad. Bobby the voice of reason, always there to help when shit hit the fan, saying he'd get in his car if they didn't have news in one hour.

An hour later, the motel lady called the station.

 

Sam was back.

Dean jumped in the Impala and drove the fastest he could to the motel, arriving even before the police. Sam was waiting for him, leaning against the door, and she had the coldest eyes he had ever seen. When he tried to hug her, she stepped back and said, with a very flat voice

_"We don't have much time. Follow my lead and don't screw up"_

When she carefully buttoned the her shirt's sleeve, Dean saw the bruises on her wrists and felt his heart being crushed. Before he could say anything, the police arrived. Sam welcomed them with a smile. Explained everything in a very calm and polite way. Her backpack had been stolen when she was coming home. A nice couple drove her to a friend's house where she had spent the night and part of the day. She wasn't expecting her brother and father to be back until the evening so she didn't think anyone would worry. That's when she saw the spot on the news that she realized she needed to come back home and quick. Of course she was terribly sorry for having given them so much work. But everything was fine now. She was home and her father would soon be here. Him being gone was absolutely out of the ordinary. They were a very united family, you could see how her brother was worried.

The police officer bought every single word, and patted Sam's head, telling her to be more careful next time. Dean was amazed. Amazed at Sam's ability to lie and at the fact that she obviously didn't want the social services to investigate her case. She was still protecting the family, in spite of everything. Sam walked the officer to the door, and then walked like a robot to her bed where she sat silently, her gaze completely vague. Dean didn't know what to say, so he came to sit next to her and Sam rose, muttering

_"I need to take a shower."_

Dean took her hand

_"Talk to me. Talk to me baby, what happened?"_

Sam looked at him and said

_"They tried to take me away... I beat the shit out of them both, showed them some Balisong moves and I ran... So it took me time... to come back... didn't want to get in any... car..."_

Dean got up and carefully hugged her, whispering _"Sammy-baby....was so worried..."_

Sam added, with the same dull tone

_"I made an anonymous phone call... to give the police the licence plate... Dean..."_

Dean kissed her hair

_"Yeah baby?"_

She answered, with tears in her voice

_"There was a child in the car Dee... there was a little boy and I... I left him there..."_

Dean hugged her closer and said

_"No, no, no Sammy don't beat yourself up you had to save yourself okay? I'm so... so proud of you my little warrior..."_

Dean's voice broke

_"I thought I had lost you."_

Sam pushed him away and said, with some bitterness in her voice

_"I'd never leave you."_

 

Dean took her in his arms and promised he would never leave her again. From this moment on, they were partners, whatever John would say. He would stand up to him, he would tell him from now on he would never leave Sammy's side. Sam began to sob like a child, and finally let Dean take care of her wounds, sat on his lap, her face tucked under his chin. When he whispered in her ear " _Here you go Sammy, good as new_ ", she sat next to him and looked at him.

She saw the dark circles under his eyes, his sad smile, how worried he had been. She still had her hands in his, and thought about how soft his touch had just been. How he had given her the strength to fight and come back home alive. The realization made her smile and caress his cheek. Dean kissed her palm and said

_"You and me against the world, right baby?"_

 

Right, Dee.


	20. In Sam's Wallet

_Watching a football game_ , Louisiana, summer 1999

_The Impala, The Smile and The Fugly Jacket_ , 2001.

_Hunting the Lady in White_ , 2005

 

 


	21. Playing with Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos dear readers! I'm glad you like the story, I must say I love writing it!
> 
> And don't hesitate to comment!

Sometimes, Sam has crazy ideas. Like, waking up in the morning, saying "I want to see the ocean" and drive for hours until she gets there. Taking Dean's hand and ask him for a dance in the middle of a parking lot, because there's a good song on the radio and they never have the time to go out.

For Dean's twentieth birthday she "babysat" some rich dude credit card and took him skiing for a weekend. She wasn't even sixteen yet and he had let her drive the Impala, now his, on small roads. Sam had made up a story about a ghost hunt, even wrote an entire webpage so it would be a surprise for Dean and to convince John to let them go. She was so excited during the trip Dean wondered why she was suddenly so passionate about hunting. They had begun to hunt together for more or less six months and they were having the best times of their lives, but it wasn't about the hunts, it was about the time spent together. They were twins again. Even if Dean still had John's jacket, John's CDs and John's car, he was back where he really belonged. With Sammy.

Sammy who had suffered some serious PTSD after what had happened to her back in Kansas. She was having nightmares again, and Dean had to sleep on the edge of his bed, with his arm upon the covers, so Sam could always reach his hand at night. It was always the same ritual. He fell asleep in her arms, she went to bed, woke up in the middle of the night, took Dean's hand, fell back asleep. Dean woke up every morning with Sam's hand in his. He carefully put her arm under the covers, kissed her on the forehead, and let her sleep a little more, her face hidden in her pillow. 

They didn't hide anymore, they were to old to play pretend. And when John arrived in their motel room after Sam's disappearance, he knew he would never be able to separate her from Dean again. He saw it in his son's eyes the minute he crossed the door, when he stared at him, sat on his bed with Sam curled up in a blanket, sleeping, her head on his lap. John had dropped his bag on the floor and whispered 

_"Oh my God, oh my God she's okay..."_

Repressing the tears coming to his eyes, and the crushing wave of guilt almost smothering him. They had become so estranged these last years. He had abandoned the idea of reaching out to her. She was too different. She didn't listen to him, she didn't respect him. She didn't say anything disrespectful, on the contrary, but he could see it in the way she talked to him, always extremely polite and distant. Dean and him had grown close, very close, on the other hand. He was proud of the man he had become. Strong, loyal, fearless. He finally could see the resemblance between them, same nose, same eye shape but also same music taste and even same girl taste. He had been a fool.

Because in that room, with the setting sun coming through the window, like a spotlight on his two children, he saw Dean hadn't changed. Sam was still his eighth wonder.

_"I won't leave her alone again Dad"_

He said, calmly, while gently petting her hair.

_"It's my job to take care of her"_

He added, with a little shaky voice.

John couldn't answer anything to that. He had given him this job years ago. He couldn't say she wasn't strong enough to hunt either, she had proved how resourceful she was that night. And a few weeks later, when they all saw on the news an "evil couple" had been arrested, they understood how much. They had done it in several states since their son was a baby. Using him as a bait, asking for directions, convincing young girls to get inside their car. Young girls who had never been seen again. There they were, said the journalist, buried in the couple's backyard. Nine girls, from age ten to age seventeen. Two girls a year since the boy was born. If Sammy hadn't been the kind to have a Balisong in her boot, and to run like a cheetah, she would have been the tenth.

Sam had silent tears running on her cheeks, and Dean held her, calling her my little hero, don't cry, you're safe now, you're with me. John left the room and grabbed a bottle. He should have been there. He should have been there to protect his daughter, and then to find her. He should have been the one to find the words to make her feel better, to make her feel safe again. He remembered leaving the hospital, a few days after she was born, with a tired but happy Mary, how glad he was to have a little girl. How he already imagined her being a ballet dancer, a cutie patootie with ribbons in her hair. And now she was a young woman he knew nothing about. A young woman he hadn't raised.

When he came back into the room and tried to pat Sam's head, he saw her body stiffen and he understood it was too late. He wasn't the one she needed.

She needed Dean. And even if he was skeptical at first, he soon realized they were one of the best hunter teams he had ever seen. He went back on the road alone. Following more leads. Meeting more women. Refusing to see what was happening under his nose.

 

_"Mr and Mrs Krycek?"_

Said the hotel's receptionist. Sam answered, with a big smile

_"That's us!"_

Dean smirked. So that was their cover, that was why she was so dressed up and wearing make up. She wanted to look older. And she used an X-Files alias as usual. The woman handed her the keys and added

_"You're going to love your room. It has just been redecorated and the view is stunning"_

Sam grabbed Dean's collar and kissed him. Just a little kiss. Like when they were kids and pretending to get married in their pillow pyramid. 

_"You heard that my love?"_

She said still smiling. Dean could only nod.

Maybe she was playing. Maybe this was just pretending. 

 

He kissed her back, lightly, and said

_"I did, Baby, I did."_

 

If they were playing, it was definitely with fire.


	22. Dear Diary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried this one on Sam's POV and I was a little nervous! And I've just seen two more kudos so thanks guys! You're awesome, as usual!

Sometimes I wish we would both be brave enough to turn our back on everything.

Though I don't know if that would be bravery or cowardice. Dean would probably think the latter. Dean would never abandon Dad's legacy. Dad's always been the biggest obstacle between us. Does Dad know? Do you think Dad suspects anything? How many times we've had this conversation I wonder... Every single time we did I said no, I thought yes. Yes of course he does. See it in his eyes, every time he looks at us. Dean is good undercover, but he's never been able to lie to his Daddy. Trying so hard not to look at me, not to touch me. Failing. Looking guilty and all. And me smiling like everything's fine. Makes me so mad sometimes I just jump on him the moment our door is closed.

Hush hush Sammy, Dad's in the other room.

I don't know. Maybe I want him to suspect something. Maybe I want revenge for him looking at me like I'm the spawn of Satan. I'm growing up under this gaze, wondering what kind of stain I bear to be looked at this way by my own father. That's maybe why I've always been attracted to older guys. The ones who call me cute and pretty. Who offer me drinks and tell me I'm smart and funny. I'm an idiot.

Dean says it's because I look like Mom. That Dad can't really handle it. And that he doesn't know how to raise a girl. Oh baby... I've seen pictures of Mom and I look nothing like her. She was a blond, I'm a redhead. She had blue eyes, I have green eyes. She's the Virgin Mary and I'm the Morrigan. I'm not a blond little saint. No one would go on a life long quest to get revenge for my death.

But Dean. Dean would. I know he would do anything for me. He would let the whole world burn for me. But not quit hunting.

He's been talking a lot about me going to college lately. I work my ass off at school to get him good grades because that's kinda the only thing that brings a smile on his face these days. I don't know what's gotten into him and he won't talk about it.

God I love him.

I don't know how I've put myself in such a mess I mean... I've always loved him. He's my big brother, he's my home, he's my constant... But I had never thought it would feel like this, the ache... Sometimes it's just too much and I almost can't handle it. I see kids at school, kissing, holding hands, talking about first times. First kiss, first touch, first... And I just nod. I just nod and I think about what I've just done with him. In the car or the night before and... do you think I'd be ashamed? Not at all. I just... burn. I think about him, about his hands and his eyes on me. About him biting his bottom lip. Does that all the time. And I burn. Kids think I'm blushing.

Blushing.

Poor bastards. If they knew...

I'm swimming in a ocean of sin and I don't feel guilty at all. Dean is like Atlas. Carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. My weight. I see it in his drifting gaze, the guilt... He feels it too though, how right it is when we're together. How everything becomes suddenly perfect, and beautiful, and complete.

He's out for now. He's gonna come back in a couple hours, smelling like whiskey and cheap perfume, and I'm gonna kiss and bite out tonight's roadhouse whore, until I get him on his knees for me, just for me. It will make him grin because he likes me jealous, just as I like him a little possessive. Because that's how we play it, because tonight I'm supposed to study my SAT. Because instead I'm going crazy with frustration like the mad bitch that I am.

Shouldn't say that though. He doesn't like it. Told me the other day. Don't be rude Sammy baby, it doesn't suit you. Sees me as such a lady. Makes me laugh. You're not like them, he says. He means like the other girls he meets in bars. Well guess what Dee? I am. I'm just like them.

After all, I did end up in your bed, didn't I?

Maybe that's what's bothering him.

That I'm not his special snow flake anymore. Well the Life does that. Our Glorious Lifestyle. Our Important Mission. Getting Revenge for our Holy Mother's Murder.

Like I care.

Like revenge is gonna give me the mother I've never had. Like it won't cost us our lives someday, fighting Dad's losing battles. If it takes Dee away from me, I'll just crash the Pala in a tree or a bridge. Cause I have no intention to survive it. That's what you do when you really love someone. You don't go on a killing spree. You just follow your love into the dark, you don't let him go to Hell or Heaven or whatever alone.

He promised he would visit me in college. But that's not what I'm worried about. I'm worried about that empty passenger seat and who's gonna sit on it.

About Dean left alone with his poor soul and his flask. How is he gonna fall asleep, who's gonna take care of him, who is he gonna talk to at night when he gets all worked up and insomniac?

I'm old enough to take care of myself.

Yeah right. I know how he always try to keep his game face on for me. Told him a million times to drop it, that I'll never buy the macho man bullshit. But he still tries. He still tries to shelter me as if I were still ten years old and unable to understand what he's going through. If I'm not there, he's gonna put himself in danger, he's gonna say yessir at every single one of Dad's orders because his pain in the ass little sis won't be there to say fuck it to General John.

I miss him already. His stupid jacket and his even stupider haircut. His mullet rock. His puns. Why can't he just drop Dad and come with me?

Why can't you just come with me?

Why can't you just...

Why can't I be enough?

 

I'm an idiot.

 

S.

15 April 2001


	23. Loyalty

Sam and Dean don't care about fidelity. They have always had other people along the road, from the very beginning. Sometimes you just need to blow off some steam, to feel someone else's touch. Maybe to temporarily escape from the other, when it becomes too strong, too tangled up and too complicated. And maybe to escape from the guilt, to feel a little normal, to give yourself the illusion that if you wanted, you could leave. 

They care about loyalty. And their only loyalty, their only oath, is to each other. The other always comes first, before everything and everyone. It's been a long time since they abandoned the idea of working for the greater good, or even in the other's interest. Their was a time when the only thing Dean wanted was Sam's well being. Or so he thought. Until she went to college and her absence killed him a little everyday. Until he saw her again after four years and hunted with her just like in the old days. Until he finally felt her touch on his skin, in their umpteenth motel room, letting go of the fear, the need and the ache. 

Until he had to drive her back to Stanford, because she was in love with someone else.

 

_"I love him. He's pure and good and... he has that innocence Dee, he has that... confidence you know? This everything's gonna be all right thing that normal people believe in..."_

Dean nodded, feeling his throat getting tighter.

_"Actually... he kind of reminds me of you... before... all that..."_

She said, running her fingers through Dean's short hair. He kept silent and she continued

_"He wants kids... And I..."_

_"You've never wanted children"_

He cut, a little harshly and Sam put her hand on his, resting on the gear.

_"I do... now... I can... picture myself as a mother."_

Dean couldn't answer. This had always been a taboo between them. He had never mentioned in front of Sam his desire to have children. She knew of course. It was written in in eyes every time a kid was around. His gaze was suddenly becoming softer, so did his voice and his gestures. But this was unspeakable. He couldn't say it. And Sam had always said she didn't want to bring an innocent in a world full of monsters. Maybe it was because she never had a mother, she said. When she was invited for dinner at some school friend's house, it always felt like going to the theater. It was almost frightening, because it felt staged, faked. She couldn't believe people could leave fearless lives, staying in the same home until they died, blissfully ignorant of the things crawling in the night. Jesse's parents were the first to feel real. Maybe because they were a little eccentric, but.... 

_"You should see his parents Dean they're just... so nice... Life is simple. That's what I realized. Life can be... good and peaceful."_

Dean swallowed a "good for you" and didn't answer. Back then when she was younger, Sam was always telling him they didn't need those so called normal lives, when he said things like "those people have it good" or looked at family homes with nostalgia in his eyes. Sam was fine as long as he was close. She didn't need a home, he was her home. That's what she used to say. And he used to reply that was because she didn't know. She didn't know what it was like to remember the days when you had a home to come back to, to miss that feeling of safety and certainty which comes with stability. He wanted her to know what it felt like, and now she did. She wasn't saying things like she only needed him close to feel safe. And it tore him inside. Sam's hand was still on his, warm and soft. Comforting. He felt like pushing it away, but instead he held it, and Sam said

_"I want... I want you to come to my wedding Dean..."_

With tears in her voice. Dean couldn't look at her. He felt like his chest was going to explode and he parked the car on the side of the road.

_"I can't."_

He said, trying to keep a straight face and a controlled voice, looking at the road and focusing on the sound of the rain, falling on the windshield. Sam sighed

_"Dee..."_

Dean turned to her, his eyes shining with repressed sadness and anger

_"Don't ask me that Sammy... Not after..."_

Sam tried to get closer to him

_"I want you to know what it's like Dee... I want you to meet those people, my in-laws, my friends, I..."_

Dean looked at her, and for a moment he felt like screaming at her face or slapping her. How could she think he would fit in there? How could she think he would like to see her with him everyday? Smiling to him. Pregnant with their child. Did she seriously want him to be part of this? He burst out of the car, not caring about the heavy rain and the cold. He couldn't handle that. He just couldn't.

When he heard Sam's door open, he breathed in deeply trying to calm down.

_"Dean what..."_

And he exploded. He told her he wished he could be happy for her, that he had spent the last four years trying to be. But yeah Sammy, you know what, I'm not innocent. I'm not a good boy. I'm a selfish bastard. Did she have any idea how lonely he had been these last years? How he had missed her? To the point he needed to drink until he collapsed, to sleep with strangers, to kill things just to fill that void, to fill that hole inside of him.

_"I'm hollow Sam!"_

He yelled, now completely drenched. He told her she had wrecked his life. Sleeping together was a thing. And a dreadful one. But love was worse, way worse. Because he couldn't get rid of her, he couldn't stop seeing her everywhere. And when he fucked those barflies she used to hate so much, he could never stop a "Sam" from escaping his lips. Sam got closer, and Dean pushed her against the car. She caressed his face and said

_"You told me..."_

And he cried. Tears were falling on his face, merging with the rain and he told her he knew he did. He told her he came once, that he saw her on the campus and understood he didn't belong there. It had made what they did look even more like a crime. He wanted to set her free, he wanted her to use her way out, to have a good life, a normal life. And he knew he had taken the right decision then.

_"But I'm not righteous Baby..."_

He said, holding her closer. It had nothing to do with John's quest. He wanted her back in his car and in his bed, where she belonged. He wanted them to hunt together like they used to and he knew, oh Hell he knew how unfair that was. He knew he couldn't ask her to abandon all the things she had built but...

_"You can't ask me to see you marry..."_

He was going to say someone else, but the words didn't pass his lips.  He just whispered

_"I love you."_

And Sam understood. Dean would never quit hunting. To him they couldn't exist out of the Impala, out of their hunting days. They were only possible in that parallel world, out of the realm of normalcy. She knew what would happen if she got back inside this car. They would fuse with each other again. Put their lives on the line everyday. Live every single dawn like the last one, and love each other with the desperation of condemned people. Something inside her was drawn to it, to this teenage idea of living fast and dying young. Dying an anonymous hero. And then she thought about Jesse's cookies. About his The Goonies shirt. About this afternoon when he taught her surfing and she thought he would be an amazing father. 

Dean would always have a place in her heart and she would always love him. But she had chosen another way.

And even if it was heart-wrenching, she had to let him go.

Sam opened the car's back door and pulled Dean inside. There was no need for words. They both knew what every single touch and every single kiss meant.

Goodbye.

 

 

 


	24. Even Children Get Older

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was a hard one! what do you think?
> 
> EDIT: Already two more kudos, thanks guys! I had mixed feelings about this chapter and I'm already more confident.

In the beginning, it was just a game of crossing boundaries, using the ambiguity, walking on a very thin line. The little kiss in the hotel lobby was the first of a long list. When their lips touched, it didn't feel like being  thunderstruck or like those irresistible waves of emotion described in cheesy chick-lit. When they arrived in their room, Sam began to jump on the enormous bed, and when Dean asked her to calm down so they could start working on the case, she jumped higher and said, grinning, " _there's no case! Happy birthday!_ ". Dean joined her and threw a pillow in her face, laughing, saying she was a mischievous little demon, and they destroyed every pillow in the room. They still remember these two days as one of the best moments of their lives.

Posing as a couple slowly became their routine. They thought it was easier for a very simple reason, people seemed to assume they were together. After all, they didn't look like each other at all anymore. If they had grown very close again, their twin phase was definitely over. And they noticed that people seemed to think they were a cute couple. It made them less suspicious, more approachable, more understanding. And since Sam was still a little bit too young to pretend to be a police officer or and FBI agent, posing as a couple of students was the easiest to investigate cases.

When Sam went back to school, during the week, they also went back to their brother/ sister routine. Dean sometimes found a temporary job in a garage, because something in him wanted to earn at least some of their money honestly. He spent his evenings in bars, but always had dinner with his sister. Sam on the other hand was working hard to get good grades, this was Dean's only condition to take her hunting.

The hunt made them totally different people. Especially Sam.

Sam didn't date boys from her schools. She had tried a couple of times and quickly understood it wouldn't work. To her, they were "nice kids". And she was far from being a kid anymore. Since the Kansas incident, she felt like her childhood had been brutally terminated. During hunting periods, Sam often pretended to be older than her age, and liked the attention she got from older men. Dean was always oscillating between being amazed and appalled by how hunting changed Sam. School Sam was that tall, thin and a little awkward nerd girl. Hunter Sam was a confident and beautiful young woman who looked at men straight in the eye.

With the life he had, it was definitely not his place to lecture her. He didn't even try. He knew what he was trying to find in the women he spent a night with. Intimacy, oblivion, the feeling he was wanted. Maybe Sam was trying to find the same thing. But she was not there yet. She spent several months accepting drinks and cigarettes. Sometimes kissing while dancing. But that was all. Dean was usually on the other side of the bar, paying a drink to Brandy/Cindy/Mandy and just kept an eye on Sam, making sure she was okay. Anyway he knew her Balisong was always in her right boot.

But was he really only watching out? There was often something defiant in Sam's eyes. And she despised the girls Dean brought back to the motel. Especially when it meant she had to wait an hour in the car until she could finally come inside their room. There was often anger in Dean's eyes when a man was too close to Sam. And anxiety when she followed one outside. He didn't want to think about what she was doing. And the more he tried not to, the more he did.

When Sam reached sixteen years old, she became even bolder. Dean didn't understand precisely why she behaved like this, but maybe it had to do with John. John who was getting more and more unstable. His sources to find the Demon had begun to run dry, and his alcoholism was getting worse. So was his violence towards them. Sam and him didn't talk to each other anymore, they only yelled.

So maybe that was the reason Sam was drawn to these older men.

He had to respect that, even if he didn't like it. In her time, Sam had let him go out and do whatever he wanted. She was sixteen, she was old enough to make her own decisions. It seemed like the right thing to do. Except the more it happened, the less he could stand it. The more he hated them. They didn't deserve her. They took advantage of her fragility, of her youth. They didn't know her. They didn't care. And that, that was insufferable.

One night, six months after Sam's sixteenth birthday, birthday they had spent by the sea officially investigating a vampire case, they went to a bar to celebrate. They had a drink together, and then, as usual, Dean went to the pool tables, and Sam started to talk with her neighbor at the bar. He offered her a beer she drank like an out of place lady. From across the room, Dean felt like he wanted to wipe out the guy's smile with his fist. There was something about him that was definitely wrong.

When she finished her glass, she said thanks and smiled, her lips shining, sugar coated. Dean felt something boiling inside himself. He couldn't quite put a word on it, maybe it was anger. He wanted to leave this place, he wanted to take her home, and right now. He had a very bad gut feeling, and a hunter always trusts his guts. As he was trying to think straight, the faux blond beside him,  touched his shoulder and told him it was his turn to play. Oh yeah. Pool. That was why they came there in the first place. He turned around for a minute. After all there was money to be made. Sam's laugh made him stop and look. The guy was embracing her, touching her hair, and he was looking at her with eyes...

It reminded him of this night when his father destroyed the face of a man who had called him pretty. He had just caressed his cheek and looked at him the way that guy was looking at Sam. Back then he had no idea what it meant, and he had just muttered a thanks, before John had smashed a whiskey bottle in the guy's face.

_"Back the fuck off"_

He growled. The guy let Sam go, and she looked half pissed and half surprised.

_"She's with you?"_

He asked. Dean didn't give it too much thinking.

_"Yeah she's with me."_

Sam turned to Dean, incredulous. They were not on a case,  there was no need to pretend. The guy saw the look on Sam's face and said

_"You sure? Because she doesn't look like..."_

Dean had to make him shut up. He kissed Sam. The usual little peck on the lips and said, raising an eyebrow

_"Convinced?"_

The guy said something like "sorry man" and walked away. Sam looked furiously at Dean and walked out the bar. 

_"What was that?"_

She said, when Dean joined her. He remained silent. He was still angry and didn't know what to say. A thousand thoughts were bubbling in his brain, and his body was torn with feelings and sensations he didn't want to have.

_"Whatever... Let's go."_

They drove silently to the motel, Sam not looking at him for even a second. It was already passed two in the morning, and Sam went straight to bed. Dean followed her after one last beer. Actually one last pack. He was way too nervous and couldn't sleep sober.

A couple hours later, Dean felt Sam's hand gently shaking his shoulder. She was lied down beside him, and he could barely see her face in the room only lit up with the motel's sign.

_"Dee..."_

She said, hesitantly moving her hand to cup Dean's cheek

_"What..."_

He didn't let her finish her sentence. It was probably " _what happened back there_ ". And maybe because it was in the middle of the night, maybe because he wasn't sure if he was still asleep or wide awake, he pulled her close and kissed her. Not a chaste kiss. A hot and needy one. Her hair tangling in his fingers, his tongue exploring the softness of her mouth.

He pulled back for a second, unsure of what had just happened, and Sam kissed him.

Little kisses.

Whispering my faun, my elf,  my prince in exile.

And now one more,

 

_"My love."_

 

 

 


	25. Wild

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1000 views! You rock!!

Dean has always known their relationship was deeply unhealthy. It's like a stain that doesn't go away. Sam on the other hand has that ability to get used to the craziest things. Maybe it's because she was more or less born on the road. Sam has always known how to find safety in other people, and never needed a home, home was wherever they were, as long they were together. Dean had white picket fence dreams, and stabbing memories of having once a house to come back to.

He thought it was incredibly sad that Sam didn't know what it was like, or didn't care. And in the meantime, hearing her saying he was all she needed filled him with love and the aching need to hold her and to promise her a brighter future. The more time passed and the more Sam turned into a wild American myth. Living on the road, drinking and smoking with strangers and sometimes, spending the night with them. Just like Dean. Except it didn't tore Sam apart. She didn't do that for the sake of self destruction, she actually embraced the life in a way Dean was unable to.

He couldn't stop noticing how older than her age she looked. How she talked, how she behaved. There was something tan in her eyes and her smile, like an innocence lost, and she didn't dream of meeting the man of her life, she told Dean once, before their first kiss, that she had made up her mind about that.

_"I'm like a sailor Dee, a man in every harbor"_

She'd said, laughing while they were sat on the Impala's hood, watching the stars and drinking beers. Dean had looked at her with some sadness in his eyes and Sam had answered

" _Don't look at me like that, I don't think it's sad. I'll just always be the other woman you know. The one they spend one night with and their life remembering"_

Dean had laughed and added

_"Aren't we humble!"_

Sam had chuckled too and told him he could talk, he was the one constantly bragging about his sexual prowess. 

But that was precisely the problem. When Dean looked at Sam, he saw a female version of himself. Sam loved him to the point she wanted to be like him, just like when they were kids. To her, they were Bonnie and Clyde, they belonged on the road, and she saw beauty in their lifestyle. Freedom. Absolute freedom. The kind normal people never experience. Sam used to call them homefree, free to wander on the highways, free to be anonymous heroes, free to die together and vanish in oblivion.

That was romantic. That was stupid.

Because even if Sam looked older, she was still a sixteen year old girl, with adolescent dreams, and that ability to dramatize everything that all teenagers have. Dean was four years older, and even if many times he was tempted to see things Sam's way, he was still conscious of all the things they missed and how broken they were. Sam deserved another life. Sam was brilliant and beautiful. She couldn't waste her life roaming in the Midwest.

Sam couldn't waste her life loving him.

When she kissed him back though, his only wish was to drive around the country until they both died hand in hand. When she called him by the little names she used when they were kids it almost brought tears to his eyes. And when she said "My love", he realized letting her go would be like tearing himself apart. He refused to think about how long he had been feeling that way. He just let her touch him the way she wanted, feeling his heart burst and his body burn until it was very, very clear in his mind that he would always crave for this.

Didn't mean it wouldn't make him sick in the morning.

Didn't mean he wouldn't deny it and come back to her like an addict comes back to his favorite substance.

He refused to label their relationship. To call her something else than his sister, even if it made the whole thing reach all new levels of fucked up. Because there was an unspeakable word he didn't want to pronounce. An unspeakable word crawling on his spine and making him shiver every single time his father looked at them with what he thought were suspicious eyes.

Sam saw them for who they really were. Because she never cared about any kind of rules. Sam had always made her own, and in her world, Isis and Osiris belonged together and no mortal could say otherwise. They belonged to another world, they answered to other laws, other gods. Sometimes he misses that Sam, the one who didn't know or care about normalcy, the one who hadn't met Jesse Moore and his chocolate chips cookies. Who didn't have a future and didn't want one. 

Back then Dean knew Sam had always walked on a thin, thin wire between sanity and madness.

A fine wire though, because he never complained when it swung on the wild side, when Sam suddenly wanted to see the ocean or to tear his clothes, when she had that smile which meant everything is possible because you and me are possible.

As wrong as it was,

He liked to take a walk on that side.

The madness was still there on that bridge, when Sam said their mother was dead and they had to move on. Dean grabbed her vest's collar and pushed her against the rail, saying she had no right to speak about her like this. He felt Sam's breath on his mouth for the first time in four years, and that spark in her eyes, so close to anger, so close to desire.

It was definitely still there when she bit his lip in their motel room, scratching his back with her red polished fingernails. Letting him throw her on the bed, repeating missed you, missed you so bad baby, kissing every part of her body, remembering all of a sudden every single time they had been in the same situation. Making love on motel beds, with dim light and desperation, with the adrenaline from the fight still running in their veins, their heart beating in unison.

There were fight marks on her pale skin. Scratches, cuts and bruises. Things that scare normal people, things which looked like a familiar map for them. Sam was running her fingers on Dean's every scar, sometimes trembling, remembering the times when she thought she would lose him, and all those other times when they celebrated their survival in those same cheap sheets or in the Impala's backseat.

They were violent, hungry and desperate. Far from being good kids, far from being poster girl and boy for the perfect American family, but there was something sublime in Sam's voice when she began to cry out his name. There was something beautiful in their bodies' movements, fluid, connected, complementary, just like when they were hunting a few hours ago, understanding the other's need without having to say a word. 

Something inside him was glad Sammy hadn't been domesticated.

Baby was still a wild wolf, just hiding among the sheep.

And she was his.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
